%M 


Santbk0  m  MnBxt-^JUmh 


ESSAYS   UPON    TOPICS   OF   INTEREST 
TO   ALL   MUSIC-LOVERS 


BY 

H.  E.  PARKHURST 


1^ 


NEW  YORK 

CARL   FISCHER 

1914 


Copyright,  1914, 

BY 

CARL  FISCHER 

New  York 

International  Copyright  Secured 


T3 


Wjf    e/      ^     Uu^MA      HMpXAOAA 


CONTENTS 


Prelude i 

Has  Modern  Music  any  Originality  ? 2 

How  TO  Listen  to  Music 10 

What  is  the  Use  of  Studying  Harmony? 18 

The  Art  of  Phrasing 27 

What  is  Counterpoint  ? 32 

Organ  Versus  Orchestra 47 

The  Downfall  of  the  Fugue 52 

Should  the  Standard  of  Church  Music  be  Lowered 

TO  Suit  a  Congregation's  Taste  ? 60 

Preponderance  of  Concord  over  Discord  in  Music  ...    64 

The  Constitution  of  an  Orchestra 69 

Should  Religious  Text  be  Sung  to  Secular  Music?  ...    94 

Why  do  We  have  Four-Part  Harmony  ? 103 

Quartet  Versus  Chorus  Choir 108 

How  Two-Part  Harmony  can  have  the  Force  of  Full 

Harmony 115 

Is  IT  Advisable  for  Vocal  Pupils  to  Sing  in  Chorus 

Choirs? 120 

The  Limitations  of  Harmony  125 

The  Relation  of  the  Auxiliary  to  the  Fundamental 

Chords 130 

The  Relation  of  Choir  Singers  to  the  Church 142 

The  Greatest  Mystery  in  the  Art 147 

How  is  Music  Composed  ?  166 

Why  do  We  have  Discord  in  Music? 176 


bbs!6i.i4 


Prelude 

^I^N  the  vast  domains  of  Music  there  are  many 
^1  broad  routes,  much  frequented,  so  that  they  have 
^^•^^  become  quite  familiar  to  the  public.  There  are 
also  countless  bye-paths,  inconspicuous  and  seldom 
trodden,  that  allure  the  steps  of  a  rambler  who  en- 
joys secluded  nooks  and  comers,  as  well  as  the  imposing 
vista  and  the  wide  sweep  of  scenery.  It  is  to  a  few 
of  these  hidden  spots,  quite  unheralded  in  the  book  of 
fame,  that  the  reader  is  brought,  for  the  pleasure  of 
an  idle  hour,  in  the  following  pages. 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


Has  Modern  Music  Any   Originality? 

^JTHE  tonal  art  apparently  culminated  in  Bach, 
ilL  Beethoven,  Mozart,  Wagner,  and  a  few  other 
^^  masters  in  composition,  who  have  all  passed 
away.  Did  originality  cease  with  them,  and  are 
the  works  of  their  successors  simply  "reminis- 
cences"—  echoes  of  old  stories  told  in  modern 
phrases? 

Solomon  once  observed  that  "the  thing  that  hath 
been,  it  is  that  which  shall  be;  and  that  which  is  done 
is  that  which  shall  be  done;  and  there  is  nothing  new 
under  the  sun"  —  a  rather  original  remark,  by  the  way, 
that  was  uttered  by  this  hlase  and  pessimistic  king  of 
old,  who  would  doubtless  have  resented  the  imputation 
of  his  famous  aphorisms  having  been  reminiscences  of 
older  thought,  just  as  any  one  in  our  day  would  be 
offended  if  another  were  to  speak  as  disparagingly  of 
him,  as  in  mock  humility  he  will  speak  in  regard  to  him- 
self. The  matter  of  present  and  future  originality  in 
art  and  in  literature  is  a  much  mooted  question;  and 
yet  the  recognition  of  a  few  undeniable  facts  would 
simplify  if  not  settle  the  dispute.  The  whole  argument 
is  usually  obscured  by  the  thoughtless  assumption  that, 
if  an  idea  is  to  be  original,  it  must  be  totally,  in  every 
point  and  particular,  original;  that  nothing  in  the  en- 
tire scope  of  the  idea  that  is  already  familiar  can  enter 
into  it,  without  upsetting  its  claim  to  novelty.  But 
this  is  unreasonable;  we  do  not  argue  in  that  way  on 
other  subjects.    Such  a  position  is  as  untenable  as  it  is 

2 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

to  say  that  an  apple,  to  be  rotten,  must  be  all  rotten. 
If  three-quarters  or  even  seven-eights  of  it  were  entirely 
sound,  we  should  still  properly  call  it  a  rotten  apple;  it 
is  radically  different  in  its  nature  from  a  thoroughly 
sound  apple.  We  thus  characterize  the  entire  fruit  ac- 
cording to  a  small  element  that  is  distinctive.  So  of 
originality.  If  an  idea  -^  be  it  of  truth  or  of  beauty  — 
contains  a  single  novel  element,  or  even  a  fresh  arrange- 
ment of  familiar  elements,  so  that  it  presents  a  new  as- 
pect, so  far  forth  it  is  an  original  idea.  Precisely  as  it 
now  is,  it  has  never  been  before.  A  terse,  racy  or  pic- 
turesque way  of  putting  a  familiar  truth  imparts  new 
life  to  it,  and  in  that  infusion  of  vitality  there  is  a 
vein  of  originality,  precisely  as  the  re-arrangement  of 
the  same  chemical  elements  results  in  a  new  substance. 
The  self-same  carbon,  in  one  arrangement  of  its  parti- 
cles is  simply  vulgar  coal,  and  in  another,  a  brilliant 
diamond. 

A  striking  instance  of  actual  originality  in  the  simple 
re-statement  of  a  perfectly  familiar  truth  is  found  in  a 
notable  remark  of  Emerson,  who  had  a  most  graphic 
and  fascinating  way  of  recasting  a  well-known  idea,  and 
giving  it  the  unique  Emersonian  flavor.  As  showing 
the  greater  significance  of  conduct,  as  compared  with 
one's  words,  in  estimating  a  man's  character,  he  said, 
"What  you  do  speaks  so  loud,  I  cannot  hear  what  you 
say!"  For  several  days  after  hearing  that  expression  I 
thought  it  to  be  a  brilliant  way  of  stating  an  entirely 
original  idea,  until  I  recalled  the  very  hackneyed  aphor- 
ism, "Actions  speak  louder  than  words."  No  element 
in  Emerson's  thought,  save  that  of  an  indefinable  vi- 

3 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

tality,  is  lacking  in  the  well-worn  phrase,  but  that  new 
life  recreates  it,  and  gives  it  the  stamp  of  originality. 

It  is  due  to  our  ignorance  that  we  attribute  so  much 
originality  to  the  wise  men  of  old  —  ignorance  of  those 
anterior  thoughts  that  passed  through  their  minds,  and 
reappeared  in  novel  form,  coming  down  to  our  time  as 
veritable  creations  of  their  brain.  Thoughts,  like  all 
living  beings,  have  an  interminable  line  of  ancestry; 
yet,  like  ourselves,  each  has  that  strange  ingredient  of 
super-added,  independent  personality  which  justifies  the 
claim  of  being  an  original. 

The  foregoing  discussion  is  thoroughly  relevant  to 
our  subject;  for  what  is  true,  as  regards  the  originality 
of  a  truth-idea,  is  equally  applicable  to  the  originality  of 
a  beauty-idea  in  any  of  the  arts.  The  old  composers  were 
plagiarists  —  often  unconsciously,  but  often  consciously, 
openly  and  boldly.  "Quotations"  —  to  use  the  mildest 
term  —  which  would  now  instantly  condemn  a  com- 
poser's reputation,  were  often  made  without  a  shadow  of 
criticism.  There  was  no  insisting  that  an  idea  or  a 
phrase  should  be  throughout  original.  In  the  epoch 
when  musicians  were  revelling  in  the  delights  of  the 
newly  discovered  art  of  counterpoint  —  harmonizing  in 
various  ways  a  given  theme  —  it  was  not  considered 
necessary  that  the  theme  itself  should  be  original;  any- 
one was  at  full  liberty  to  take  a  theme,  however  familiar, 
as  the  basis  of  his  composition,  and  in  the  elaboration  of 
a  hackneyed  melody,  the  work  in  its  entirety  was  re- 
garded as  an  original  creation. 

Musical  thoughts,  like  all  other  thoughts,  are  in  part 
an  inheritance  from  the  past,  and  a  very  large  amount 

4 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

of  what  every  composer  has  written,  even  the  most 
famous  and  most  original  of  them,  is  second-hand 
thought.  Certain  chord-progressions  have  been  used 
over  and  over  again  by  all  the  writers  of  the  past,  and 
will  doubtless  be  reiterated  through  all  future  time. 
Even  some  of  the  characteristic  phrases,  melodic  and 
harmonic,  of  the  great  writers,  which  we  now  regard  as 
their  own  invention,  were  taken,  in  part  or  wholly,  from 
their  predecessors.  We  can  say  this  with  the  more  cer- 
tainty inasmuch  as  the  greatest  composers  were  the 
most  assiduous  students  of  others*  writings,  and  ab- 
sorbed their  spirit  and  more  or  less  of  their  phraseology; 
even  more,  doubtless,  than  is  done  by  modern  writers; 
and  such  absorption  inevitably  meant  the  reappearance, 
more  or  less  veiled  by  their  own  creative  genius  and  in- 
dividuality, of  the  ideas  of  others.  Even  the  famous 
Handelian  cadence,  occurring  at  the  end  of  so  many  of 
his  compositions,  is  found  in  other  writings  to  which  he 
doubtless  had  access.  Bach  so  far  eclipsed  his  prede- 
cessors and  contemporaries  that  he  now  shines  alone  in 
his  quarter  of  the  heavens,  like  Sirius  without  a  peer 
among  the  fixed  stars,  and  we  are  disposed  to  regard 
him  as  sui  generis,  independent  of  the  thoughts  of 
others;  yet  analysis  shows  him  not  exempt  from  ex- 
ternal influence,  and  that  his  mind  ran  in  pre-established 
grooves.  It  is  his  own  confession  that  when  he  wished 
to  be  inspired  to  a  mood  of  composition,  he  would  study 
the  scores  of  Handel ;  and  it  would  be  inevitable  that  he 
would  absorb  and  reproduce  slight  phases  of  that  mas- 
ter's thought. 

It  requires  but  very  little  to  give  a  strikingly  original 

5 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


flavor  to  a  most  familiar  phrase,  and  in  a  passage  of 
several  measures  a  fraction  of  a  single  measure  is  some- 
times sufficient  to  give  it  the  distinctive  feature  of 
originality. 

As  showing  how  a  minute  touch  of  novelty  can  trans- 
form a  long  succession  of  commonest  chords  into  some- 
thing as  beautiful  as  it  is  unique,  take  the  following  ex- 
ample of  fundamental  harmonies,  so  commonplace  that 
they  are  repeated  over  and  over  again  in  a  student's 
exercises : 


9 rr- 

r~^ — 

1 25 1 

-<S^ 

1 ^ 1 

s         " 

eJ 

^ 

rJ 

(5» 

z? 

.. 

pk^7          "^ 

1*^ 

-&- 


^ 


etc. 


Ws. 


By  striking  the  tones  of  these  chords  successively,  in- 
stead of  simultaneously,  we  obtain  that  wonderfully 
simple,  but  world-famous  Prelude  of  Bach: 


H^^ 


(is 


g 


^ 


5 


^ 


etc. 


A  very  little  leaven  leavens  the  whole  lump! 

On  the  other  hand,  it  often  happens  that  it  is  a  dis- 
tinctive atmosphere,  so  subtle  as  to  elude  our  sharpest 
scrunity,  that  breathes  through  a  work,  and  constitutes 

6 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

its  originality ;  like  the  style  of  a  literary  writer,  not  ob- 
servable in  any  one  sentence,  but  giving  a  color  to  the 
whole  work.  The  scenery  of  different  countries  may  be 
distinctly  typical,  as  viewed  in  large  areas,  and  yet, 
compared  acre  by  acre,  show  little  or  nothing  to  justify 
the  impression  of  being  characteristic.  So  it  is  often 
by  a  rare  atmosphere  pervading  an  entire  composition 
—  like  the  odor  of  certain  flowers  that  is  more  notice- 
able at  a  distance  —  and  not  by  a  strikingly  beautiful 
bit  of  original  writing  here  and  there,  that  one  estab- 
lishes his  claim  to  a  new  vein  of  authorship.  This  pro- 
duces a  far  more  delicate,  but  often  quite  as  pleasing, 
sense  of  novelty.  One  must  look  through  miles  of  sky 
to  see  the  air  is  a  beautiful  blue.  A  literary  mind  mar- 
shalls  the  most  familiar  words  according  to  time-worn 
rules  of  grammar,  yet  unconsciously  floods  the  work 
with  the  most  distinct  trace  of  individualism,  and 
stamps  his  mode  of  thought  and  of  diction  with  a  beauty 
all  his  own.  We  call  it  "charm  of  style,"  and  this,  too, 
is  originality. 

The  "common  chords"  are  as  trite  as  the  mono- 
syllables of  a  primer,  yet  through  their  masterly  colloca- 
tion. Bach,  Beethoven  and  Mozart  have  shown  the  mar- 
velous profundity  of  their  transparent  depths.  Great 
thoughts  do  not  need  great  words. 

Originality  will  be  fostered,  not  stifled,  by  the  fullest 
possible  absorption  of  the  genius  of  the  past.  A  would-be 
orator  will  study  the  greatest  oratory  of  all  nations  and 
all  times.  A  would-be  poet  will  steep  himself  in  poet- 
lore;  and  it  is  from  the  soil  of  such  preparation  that  we 
may  most  reasonably  look  for  the  rare  growth  of  origi- 

7 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

nality  in  every  line  of  thought  and  sentiment.  The  first 
result  of  such  study  of  a  master's  works  may  be  an  evi- 
dent plagiarism  in  the  distinct  imitation  of  style;  yet 
this  very  process  strengthens  the  student's  own  powers; 
and  if  he  have  a  truly  creative  spirit  and  a  strong  will, 
he  must  eventually  arrive  at  the  point  where  his  indi- 
viduality will  assert  itself,  and  the  borrowed  light  of  an- 
other's genius  will  gradually  wane  in  his  writings,  just  as 
the  western  moon  pales  before  the  brightness  of  the 
rising  sun.  The  earliest  works  of  Beethoven  gave  but 
the  slightest  augury  of  his  ultimate,  brilliant  and  unap- 
proachable supremacy  in  the  realm  of  pure  music.  In 
his  first  sonatas  he  shows  himself  strongly  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  older  master,  Haydn  —  he  is  in  the 
imitative  period  of  his  career.  But  the  indomitable 
zeal  of  his  artistic  nature  broke  the  thralldom  of  early 
tutelage,  and  by  the  might  of  determination,  which  is 
the  potent  element  of  genius,  he  reached  the  Olympian 
summit  of  his  art. 

But  in  this  feverish  age,  students  are  too  anxious  for 
results  to  lay  adequate  foundations  for  any  lasting  su- 
perstructure. Callow  composers  scorn  the  severity  of 
training  by  which  the  great  masters  fitted  themselves 
for  their  herculean  tasks;  and  half-fledged  warblers  are 
filling  the  air  with  twitterings  which  they  fondly  hope 
an  indulgent  public  will  accept  as  the  rich  and  mellow 
cadences  of  mature  song  birds. 

The  present  dearth  of  composers  and  of  poets  is  no 
valid  omen  of  the  future  —  we  are  now  only  in  the 
hibernating  period  of  art.  Beauty  is  infinite,  thoughts 
are  numberless.     Man  was  made  to  look  upward  into 

8 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

the  limitless  infinite,  and  the  measure  of  his  aspirations 
will  be  the  measure  of  his  art.  Our  instincts  were  made 
to  be  satisfied,  not  to  be  disappointed  —  as  Joseph  Cook 
expressed  it,  "The  Lord  made  no  half-hinges."  If  the 
law  of  nature  be  the  law  of  art,  we  are  to  sweep  ever 
onward  to  fuller  expression  to  the  end.  It  would  be 
less  of  a  wonder  to  see  a  second  Shakespeare  and  a  second 
Bach  than  it  was  to  see  the  first.  The  Lord's  mind 
seems  to  be  in  the  major  key;  hopeful,  exultant,  reach- 
ing forth  to  ever  greater  things,  its  dynamic  expression 
essentially  "crescendo";  and  He  has  cast  the  minds  of 
His  creatures  in  the  same  mould  as  His  own.  Perhaps 
the  evolution  of  art  is  as  yet  only  in  its  infancy.  We 
are  not  of  those  who  judge  the  horizon  line  to  be  the 
limit  of  the  world.  He  is  the  truest  prophet  who  speaks 
most  hopefully  of  the  future. 


9 


RAMBLES     IN     MUSIC-LAND 


How  to  Listen  to  Music 

^I^ISTENING  to  fine  music  is  the  surest  method 
^JLl  of  kindling  the  imagination,  and  affords  the 
^^^  best  incentive  to  the  singer,  the  instrumentalist, 
or  the  composer;  for  it  keeps  one's  ideals  bright, 
which  get  obscured  by  hearing  constantly  his  own 
inferior  performance.  It  is  so  easy  to  let  our  standards 
drop.  Even  the  Olympian  gods  fell  to  the  level  of 
man's  horizontal  gaze. 

The  following  suggestions  are  for  those  who  are  tak- 
ing the  art  seriously,  and  making  a  concert  performance 
a  means  of  education ;  and  not  for  that  large  element  in 
every  audience  who  attend  as  a  diversion,  or  for  fashion- 
able amusement.  Concentration  of  mind  is  as  necessary 
in  following  a  musical  rendering  as  in  reading  a  book, 
or  in  listening  to  a  public  speaker. 

Everyone  will  of  course  best  appreciate  an  interpre- 
tation that  is  in  the  line  of  his  own  speciality,  and  is 
likely  to  pay  little  attention  to  those  features  of  the 
art,  often  quite  as  important,  which  do  not  so  intimately 
concern  himself.  This  is  a  bad  habit,  for  it  promotes 
one-sidedness.  A  broader  sympathy,  and  attention  to 
that  which  is  not  in  the  direct  line  of  his  own  study,  will 
not  only  make  him  more  responsive  to  the  full  reach  of 
the  art,  but  it  will  certainly  re-act  upon  his  individual 
efforts.  Any  one  is  best  equipped  for  his  own  work  who 
is  alive  to  the  significance  of  all  the  kindred  features  of 
the  subject.  Intelligence  is  contagious.  Specialism  in- 
tensifies, but  it  contracts.     The  vocalist  scarcely  hears 

lO 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

the  prelude  or  the  accompaniment,  yet  to  the  com- 
poser's mind  they  were  very  essential  features  of  the 
composition.  A  thorough  musician  realizes  to  how- 
great  a  degree  the  solo  or  chorus  is  indebted  to  the  re- 
inforcement of  the  instrumental  part.  Notice  with  what 
care  the  accompaniment  has  been  wrought  out  in  all 
classic  songs  —  subservient,  yet  a  gem  of  art,  as  deli- 
cately managed  as  if  it  were  the  main  feature  of  the  com- 
position —  an  organic  part  of  the  entire  work,  as  in- 
dispensable as  it  is  unobtrusive. 

The  piano  student,  again,  considers  almost  exclusively 
the  effect  of  his  own  instrument  in  the  concerto,  wherein 
it  is  the  solo  instrument,  indeed,  but  with  the  nature  of 
an  obligato  part  in  the  entire  conception  of  the  work, 
and  the  genius  of  the  composer  is  often  quite  as  manifest 
in  the  orchestral  section  of  production.  One  will  of 
course  get  the  most  out  of  that  into  which  he  has  put 
his  own  thought,  but  he  is  negligent  and  culpable  if  he 
ignores  that  which  makes  less  appeal  to  his  individual 
taste.  In  the  interest  of  broad  musicianship  he  must 
rise  to  the  heights  of  the  ensemble  effects,  and  in  every 
way  he  will  gain  by  the  effort.  It  is  true,  every  phase 
of  art-work  is  so  fascinating  and  engrossing  that  there 
is  plausible  excuse  for  such  partial  interest.  The  vocalist 
is  enamoured  of  tone-production,  and  insensibly  forgets 
that  singing  is  a  compound  art  —  instrumentalism  and 
oratory  —  musical  declamation  —  intoned  speech  —  and 
that  to  ignore  one  branch  of  the  art  is  as  fatal  to  the 
highest  success  as  to  ignore  the  other  branch.  He  too 
often  forgets  that  while  music  melts  the  heart,  the  task 
is  as  yet  only  half  accomplished,  for  it  is  the  accompany- 

II 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 

ing  speech,  clearly  enunciated,  and  coming  from  the 
heart,  that  moves  another  heart,  moulds  the  thought, 
and  bends  the  will  of  the  auditor.  Without  equal  em- 
phasis upon  each  of  these  co-ordinated  arts  in  vocalism, 
singing  is  only  half-way  singing,  like  a  tree  that  spends 
its  force  in  foliage,  and  brings  no  fruit  to  perfection. 

It  is  so  common  thus  to  contract  one's  view  to  his  own 
single  specialty  that  it  seems  almost  inevitable;  yet 
breadth  of  sympathy  and  sweep  of  horizon  are  much  more 
a  question  of  will-power  than  is  commonly  supposed. 

A  noted  musician  of  this  country,  whose  long  career 
as  teacher  and  composer  recently  ended,  would  play 
nothing  in  his  earlier  years  in  recitals  but  Bach.,  Noth- 
ing but  Bach!  Roast  beef,  then  more  roast  beef,  and 
then  still  more!  Surely  these  hearts  of  ours  crave  a 
few  side-dishes,  and  a  little  dessert!  To  like  nothing  but 
Bach  is  almost  as  unfortunate  —  not  quite  —  as  not  to 
like  Bach  at  all.  It  is  the  acme  of  specialism  in  taste. 
This  specialism  microbe  finds  its  home  and  most  foster- 
ing environment  in  the  individuality  of  the  German. 
The  world  would  have  suffered  beyond  calculation  in 
many  lines  of  art,  science  and  literature,  without  this 
glad  self-abnegation  in  many  a  noted  representative  of 
this  peculiarly  persistent  and  grimly  enthusiastic  race  — 
a  model  to  the  world  as  the  blonde  incarnation  of  in- 
exhaustible patience  —  so  many  of  whom  have  been 
content,  in  order  to  follow  out  a  single  slender  line  of 
research  to  its  utmost  limit,  to  be  monumental  ignora- 
muses along  every  other  line  —  a  species  of  living 
martyrdom  that  we  admire  without  stint,  but  cannot 
conscientiously  recommend  for  general  imitation.     Body 

12 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

and  mind  —  the  house  and  its  occupant  —  are  finely 
matched,  as  a  rule;  and  in  the  competition  for  mental 
mastery,  the  ponderously-minded  German  and  the 
nimble-witted  Frenchman  suggest  the  notable  simile  of 
the  tortoise  and  the  hare;  but  any  suspicion  of  dis- 
paragement of  our  Teutonic  friend  is  certainly  allayed 
by  the  prompt  acknowledgment  that  in  the  nature  of 
the  case  it  was  inevitable  that  the  former  should  win  the 
race  by  several  lengths  —  and  he  laughs  best  who  laughs 
last. 

It  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to  round  himself  out  as 
well  as  to  round  out  the  world,  and  while  sacrifice  for 
others,  along  these  lines,  is  a  good  thing,  and  to  be 
cultivated  in  moderation,  it  is  an  overdose  of  good  doc- 
trine to  practice  it  all  the  time.  Charity  indeed  begins 
at  home  —  and  often  ends  there;  but  it  is  an  equal  in- 
justice that  it  should  begin  abroad  and  end  there. 

A  noted  linguist,  master  of  many  languages,  a  man  of 
books  and  of  great  culture,  could  not  drive  his  own 
horse,  still  less  harness  him ;  and  it  was  the  frail  partner 
of  his  joys  who  held  the  monopoly  of  both  of  these  avo- 
cations. He  might  have  been  happier,  and  perhaps 
more  useful,  if  he  had  exchanged  one  of  his  languages 
for  a  year's  experience  on  a  farm  —  had  been  a  little  less 
in  the  clouds,  and  a  little  more  in  evidence  on  the  ground. 
No  one  is  so  tedious,  for  companionship,  as  one  who 
knows  everything  about  one  subject,  and  nothing  about 
everything  else.  Such  people  are  like  spheres  —  touch- 
ing the  world  at  one  microscopic  point  —  too  far  in  ad- 
vance of  their  fellows  to  have  respect  for  them  on  their 
owii  ground,  and  otherwise  too  far  behind  them  to  gain 

13 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

their  respect.  Such  an  one  must  have  been  the  famous 
philologist  who  devoted  his  entire  life  to  studying  the 
six  cases  in  the  declension  of  the  Latin  noun.  One  would 
suppose  that  this  would  be  a  sufficiently  limited  subject 
of  research  to  satisfy  the  most  enthusiastic  specialist. 
That  is  because  the  other  nations  of  the  world  do  not 
appreciate  the  unique  genius  of  the  German  mind  for 
phenomenal  concentration  of  attention ;  for  on  his  death- 
bed, with  almost  his  last  breath  he  said,  "I  have  only 
one  thing  in  my  life  to  regret."  His  friends  supposed 
that,  in  the  face  of  death  his  conscience  was  troubling 
him  for  some  act  of  immorality  of  which  the  world  knew 
nothing,  and  asked  him,  with  some  concern,  what  it 
was  that  he  so  deeply  repented.  His  feeble  reply  was, 
"That  I  did  not  devote  my  entire  life  to  the  study  of 
the  Dative  case!" 

It  is  unavoidable  that  we  should  be  to  a  degree  one- 
sided. Competition  is  more  and  more  keen,  and  there 
is  no  prospect  of  success  for  one  who  does  not  expend 
his  energies  chiefly  along  the  line  of  his  special  aptitude. 
But  the  broader  outlook  upon  which  we  are  insisting  is 
that  which  is  gained  by  no  important  abstraction  of  his 
efforts  or  of  his  interest  from  his  immediate  work.  Even 
a  little  smattering,  here  and  there,  is  a  good  thing.  A 
superficial,  six  months'  study  of  geology,  chemistry  and 
mineralogy,  as  the  side-issues  of  a  college  course,  have 
given  me  a  life-long  interest  in  those  subjects.  Ver- 
satility of  taste  itiakes  one  more  interesting  to  himself 
and  to  everyone  else;  and  the  exercise  of  a  little  will- 
power will  keep  him  from  running  everlastingly  in  the 
straight  groove  of  one  idea.     Look  abroad  occasionally, 

14 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

and  not  incessantly  upward.  With  an  extended  horizon, 
one  will  gain  a  fuller  and  more  just  view  of  his  own 
department,  for  it  is  only  the  broad  vision  that  enables 
one  to  see  the  details  in  true  proportion.  The  arts  are 
all  related  —  the  nine  Muses  were  presumably  sisters. 

Let  the  singer  be  attentive  to  instrumental  effects, 
and  he  will  treat  the  accompaniment  of  his  own  songs 
with  more  respect.  It  will  be  a  good  thing  for  his  vanity 
to  learn  how  greatly  he  is  indebted,  for  his  applause,  to 
the  artistic  composition,  artistically  rendered,  which  un- 
derlies his  song.  Let  him  put  himself,  too,  under  the 
sway  of  massive  choral  and  orchestral  performance,  and 
learn  that  there  is  nothing  so  stirring  and  irresistible  in 
the  entire  domain  of  the  art  as  the  mighty  avalanche  of 
tone  swelling  from  a  thousand  voices  and  instruments. 
Let  the  instrumentalist  learn  that  the  sublimest  instru- 
ment in  earth  or  heaven  is  not  made  of  wood  and  brass, 
but  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  that  the  heart  finds  fuller 
utterance  through  the  throat  than  through  the  finger-tips. 

In  his  own  line  of  study  let  every  student  have  his 
favorite  composers,  but  let  him  seek  to  hear  rather  than 
avoid  styles  of  musical  thought  that  may  at  first  be  far 
less  congenial  to  his  mood.  A  new  taste  is  a  new  friend. 
First  prejudices  are  often  as  unjust  in  art  as  in  society. 
One  finds  distinct  beauties,  new  sources  of  pleasure,  and 
a  broadening  of  his  nature  by  the  cultivation  of  open- 
mindedness;  and  the  recognition  of  some  new  aspect  of 
thought,  in  melody  or  harmony,  gives  one  a  truer  esti- 
mate of  the  resorces  of  this  complex  and  inexhaustible 
art,  as  multitudinous  in  form  of  utterance  as  are  the 
types  of  human  nature.    The  old  masters  are  a  rebuke 

15 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

to  the  contracted  views  of  many  modern  musicians,  for 
they  were  diligent  students  of  all  the  literature  of  the 
art.  Nothing  can  be  more  absurd  than  the  position 
taken  by  some  young  composers,  that  the  study  of  past 
writers  will  hinder  the  free  development  of  a  distinctive 
style  in  his  own  writings.  The  broadest  possible  culti- 
vation, the  fullest  absorption  of  others'  ideas,  the  mastery 
of  all  previous  forms  of  expression  —  herein  is  the  surest 
foundation  on  which  to  erect  one's  own  superstructure; 
and  if  one  possesses  the  creative  power,  it  will  attain 
to  the  richest  fruition  through  the  assimilation  and  trans- 
formation of  all  that  has  gone  before. 

The  more  familiar  one  is  with  the  subject  matter  of 
any  composition  that  is  to  be  heard,  the  more  critical  he 
can  be  of  the  interpretation;  and  the  piano  arrange- 
ments of  orchestral  works,  for  those  who  cannot  read  the 
scores,  are  desirable  for  practice.  Such  acquaintance 
with  the  work  makes  it  so  transparent  that  the  instru- 
mentation is  quite  easily  followed;  and,  with  the  score 
in  hand,  it  is  a  valuable  education  in  the  use  of  the  in- 
struments, affording  an  idea  of  the  general  scheme  of 
orchestration,  as  regards  the  grouping  of  the  different 
classes  of  instruments,  their  several  tone-colors,  and 
their  distinctive  uses  and  effects  in  the  entire  art- 
structure. 

It  takes  a  great  nature  to  do  a  great  work;  and  what- 
ever broadens  the  mind  and  deepens  the  sentiments  will 
somehow  show  itself  in  the  touch  of  the  fingers,  and  im- 
part a  new  color  to  the  voice.  In  listening  to  music  or 
to  any  other  form  of  thought,  one  hears  only  as  much  as 
the  mind  and  heart  can  respond  to.     One's  whole  being 

i6 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 

must  be  attuned  to  harmony,  just  as  the  violin  treasures 
up  within  itself  the  forgotten  echoes  of  its  past  experi- 
ence, and  gives  them  back  again  in  the  richer  tones  of  its 
future  melodies.  Many  an  instrumentalist  and  vocalist 
would  be  in  the  more  direct  line  of  success  if  he  were  to 
curtail  somewhat  the  daily  routine  of  piano  studies  and 
solfeggi,  and  cultivate  the  poets.  The  work  we  do  de- 
pends upon  the  atmosphere  we  breathe.  Vocal  chords 
and  digital  muscles  have  too  much  of  the  monopoly  in 
musical  education.  The  greatest  moving  power  of  the 
art  is  in  the  translation  into  tones  of  what  is  noblest  in 
human  character. 


17 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


What  is  the   Use  of  Studying  Harmony  ? 

^JIJARDLY  one  in  a  hundred  of  all  who  study  Har- 
fJ™  mony  becomes  a  composer  of  even  ordinary 
'^Y  ability;  but  what  of  the  ninety  and  nine  who 
have  no  such  ambition,  and  never  go  beyond  the 
rudiments  of  theory?  What  good  can  the  study  do 
them  if  they  cannot  thus  apply  it?  There  are  few,  if 
any,  studies  in  the  curriculum  of  school  or  college  so 
misdirected  and  fruitless  as  that  of  Harmony,  con- 
ducted as  it  usually  is.  Inquire  of  such  pupils  what 
advantage  they  expect  to  gain  from  it,  and  almost 
every  one  will  be  sorely  embarrassed  for  an  answer. 
They  are  pinning  their  faith  on  the  judgment  of  others 
in  the  inception  and  continuance  of  the  study,  and  to 
multitudes  of  them  the  first  clearly  defined  conviction  in 
regard  to  it  comes  when  they  finally  relinquish  the 
struggle;  and  that  conviction  is,  that  they  may  have 
been,  in  some  mysterious  way,  profited  by  the  work,  but, 
for  the  life  of  them,  they  cannot  understand  how.  The 
simple  chords  they  have  so  perspiringly  written  (and  so 
many  of  them  were  wrongly  written!)  seem  to  stand  in 
no  relation  to  actual  compositions;  and  thus  these  latter 
have  received  little  or  no  illumination  as  to  their  struc- 
ture —  harmonic  or  otherwise  —  as  a  reward  for  all  the 
labor.  The  work  has  been  irksome  to  the  pupils,  and 
they  have  been  in  a  mild  but  continuous  state  of  dis- 
couragement throughout  the  struggle  to  accomplish 
results,  the  relation  of  which  to  their  general  education 
is  utterly  obscure. 

i8 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

I  believe  I  shall  receive  the  thanks  of  the  great  ma- 
jority of  harmony  students  who  may  read  this  essay,  for 
this  frank  expression  of  their  state  of  mind,  and  ap- 
preciation of  their  discouraged  zeal  to  master,  they 
know  not  what,  and  ending  in  conscious  failure  to  gain 
distinct  and  substantial  results.  This  matter  has  been 
seldom,  if  ever,  presented  from  the  student-standpoint; 
but  my  experience  compels  me  to  believe  that  the  fore- 
going is  not  an  over-statement  of  the  case,  and  that,  for 
many  students,  other  methods  than  those  commonly  in 
vogue  need  to  be  adopted,  to  make  the  work  profitable 
and  interesting.  It  is  undeniable  that  if  a  person's  faith- 
ful study  of  any  subject  does  not  leave  him  convinced 
that  in  some  distinct  way  he  is  being  profited,  either  the 
subject-matter  has  no  direct  value,  or  else  the  manner  of 
its  study  is  woefully  at  fault. 

If  this  large  army  of  young  harmonists  are  actually 
reaping  a  benefit,  it  is  certainly  high  time  that  they 
should  understand  what  it  is,  as  a  reward  for  past,  and 
an  incentive  to  future,  effort. 

Postponing  for  the  present  any  criticism  upon  current 
methods  of  harmony-study,  it  is  reasonable  that  we 
should  first  understand  clearly  what  this  study,  if 
properly  pursued,  is  qualified  to  do  for  every  pupil,  and 
what  it  is  doing,  to  some  extent  at  least,  even  if  its  in- 
fluence be  not  distinctly  recognized. 

It  is  a  rather  vague,  although  truthful,  statement  of  the 
matter  to  say,  as  harmony  students  often  timidly  express 
it,  that  the  study  makes  one  more  intelligent  in  the  art ;  and 
its  truthfulness  is  not  lessened  by  the  fact  that  those  who 
use  the  expression  have  but  a  dim  sense  of  what  they  mean. 

19 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Can  a  singer  sing  any  better,  can  an  instrumentalist 
play  any  better  for  being  a  thorough  harmonist?  Doubt- 
less the  help  from  this  source  is  inappreciable.  Shall  we 
consider  that  the  pleasure  of  a  mere  smattering  in  chord- 
formation  and  in  the  principles  of  fundamental  compo- 
sition, just  as  one  might  learn  the  rudimentary  use  of  a 
variety  of  orchestral  instruments  without  acquiring  pro- 
ficiency upon  any  one  of  them  —  that  such  slight  addi- 
tion to  one's  knowledge  is  worth  the  long  labor  thereon 
expended,  when  we  consider  that  it  is  just  so  much  labor 
abstracted  from  his  more  profitable  studies  in  the  art? 
If  this  be  the  utility  of  harmony,  we  can  hardly  con- 
ceive that  any  one  would  give  an  affirmative  answer. 
What  then  is  the  substantial  reward  that  justifies  the 
cost?  I  trust  that  the  following  line  of  thought  will 
make  a  doubtful  matter  plain  to  some  who  have  been 
laboring  in  the  dark,  and  help  to  increase  the  enthusiasm 
for  a  course  of  study  that,  if  correctly  pursued,  will  do 
for  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  musician  what  no  other 
branch  of  the  art  can  so  well  accomplish. 

Every  art- work  expresses  some  idea  —  not  an  idea 
that  may  be  put  into  words,  yet  none  the  less  an  idea 
that  is  distinct  and  individual.  The  comprehensive  idea 
in  every  work  of  art  is  a  beauty-idesi,  and  this  range  of 
ideas  finds  no  expression  in  ordinary  verbal  speech. 
Yet  any  idea,  of  whatever  sort,  in  order  to  be  appre- 
hended, must  be  clothed  in  some  language.  A  truth-idea 
finds  its  language  in  words  —  nouns,  verbs,  adjectives, 
etc.  A  beauty-idea,  finds  its  expression  or  language  in 
forms,  colors  and  tones;  and  although  the  meaning  of 
an  art-work  is  all  too  subtle  to  be  conveyed  in  the  mcui- 

20 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 

ner  of  an  intellectual  statement,  it  must  somehow  be  con- 
veyed with  equal  precision  and  distinctness  to  the 
mind. 

Now,  as  the  understanding  of  any  thought  that  is 
verbally  expressed  requires  that  the  meaning  of  each 
word  should  be  clear  —  the  vagueness  of  even  a  single 
word  impairing  the  full  transparency  of  the  thought  — 
so  the  vocabulary  —  if  one  may  use  the  term  —  of  all 
beauty-ideas  must  be  mastered  by  one  who  would  grasp 
the  full  force  of  the  idea,  and  thus  appreciate  any 
specific  work  of  art. 

Making  direct  application  of  this  truth  to  the  appre- 
hension of  a  musical  idea  as  conveyed  through  successive 
groups  of  tones,  we  may  say  that  these  tone-groups, 
called  chords,  with  their  gilded  edge  of  melody,  are  pre- 
cisely analogous  to  the  vocabulary  of  human  speech. 
It  would  be  altogether  fanciful  to  press  the  analogy 
further,  and  to  assign  to  some  chords  the  function  of 
nouns,  to  others  that  of  verbs,  etc.;  but  in  the  beauty- 
language  of  a  symphony  or  any  other  instrumental 
form  of  music,  these  successive  chords  do  certainly  play 
the  same  r61e  in  unfolding  the  musical  idea  as  words  do 
in  conveying  verbal  thoughts. 

It  follows,  then,  that,  to  feel  the  full  force  of  a  musical 
thought,  we  must  feel  the  full  sense  of  each  chord-word 
in  musical  language,  and  our  enjoyment  of  such  an  art- 
work will  be  measured  by  the  completeness  of  our  ap- 
prehension of  each  chord  with  its  singing  melody.  Only 
to  a  master's  vision  comes  the  radiant  force  of  beauty 
wrapped  in  forms,  and  tints,  and  tones. 

But  we  must  now  explain  more  exactly  what  is  signi- 

21 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 


fied  by  the  "meaning"  of  a  chord,  the  term  not  being 
used  precisely  in  its  ordinary  sense,  since  a  chord  cannot 
be  defined  by  verbal  synonyms.  Let  us  illustrate: 
take  the  following  group  of  tones: 


i 


^ 


m 


Let  a  thousand  persons  hear  that  chord,  and  if  their 
hearing  be  normal,  they  all  receive  precisely  the  same 
physical  impression  on  the  ear.  But  do  they  all  hear  it 
alike?  By  no  means.  We  only  truly  hear  with  the 
inner  ear,  and  the  impression  is  dependent  upon  an  in- 
telligence that  is  quite  beyond  and  above  the  auditory 
organ.  A  dog's  ear  is  full  as  keen  as  yours  and  mine 
to  hear  a  harmony  or  melody,  his  eye  as  sharp  to  see  a 
flower  or  a  sunset;  yet  the  brute  has  never  truly  heard 
a  harmony,  nor  seen  the  glory  of  the  setting  sun.  Some 
human  ears  are  even  as  brutish  as  a  dog's,  and  in  play- 
ing to  them  the  foregoing  chord,  they  fail  to  recognize 
even  the  vaguest  sort  of  concordance  —  a  recognition 
which  would  show  the  first  glimmering  of  intelligence 
that  is  above  the  apprehension  of  a  beast.  Above  this 
lowest  grade  of  auditors  are  those  to  whom  it  is  a  mere 
vacuity  of  sounds  that  are  physically  concordant.  Next, 
those  who  have  intelligence  of  sounds,  and  listen  with 
the  inner  ear;  but  the  intelligence  is  of  infinitely  vary- 
ing degree.    To  some  there  comes  a  vague  sense  of 

22 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

tone-relationship,  a  perception  of  ensemble,  and  mean- 
ing begins  to  come  in  misty  clearness.  Others,  more 
sensitive,  bring  the  group  into  distinct  focus,  hearing 
each  tone,  in  itself  and  in  its  relations,  and  having  what 
might  be  called  the  scientific  mastery  of  the  chord ;  and 
lastly,  a  few  will  feel  a  subtle  force  and  quality  that 
elude  all  analysis,  and  constitute  the  genuine  spirit  of 
the  harmony  —  the  significance  of  the  Tonic,  the  Domi- 
nant and  the  Third,  sounding  in  all  the  octave  ranges  of 
the  scale,  in  their  diverse  tone  colors,  with  the  blending 
of  all  effects  inherent  in  these  combined  elements  of  the 
scale,  which  make  this  the  supreme  and  dominating 
chord  of  that  scale  —  the  solar  centre  of  the  entire 
system  of  luminous  harmonies.  These  last  auditors 
have  felt  the  full  sense  of  the  chord,  they  have  mastered 
the  meaning  of  this  tonal  word,  the  mightiest  one  in  the 
entire  vocabulary  of  music.  This  is  but  one  of  the 
countless  harmonic  groups  that  form  the  illimitable 
vocabulary  of  tone-language.  Even  in  verbal  speech  a 
word  may  have,  to  some  extent,  a  different  significance 
under  different  circumstances;  and  this  is  wonderfully 
the  case  in  the  language  of  music,  where  the  sense  of  a 
chord  so  largely  depends  upon  the  context.  The  most 
frivolous  music  in  the  world  results  from  the  trivial  use 
of  the  commonest  chords ;  and  those  same  chords,  in  the 
hands  of  a  master,  can  express  all  that  is  sublime  in  the 
art.  There  is  no  greater  mystery  than  the  subtle  de- 
pendence of  chord  upon  chord  for  a  sense  that  is  distinct 
from  the  intrinsic  meaning  of  each. 

It  is  this  full  mastery,  by  a  delicately  attentive  ear, 
of  all  the  inter-relations  of  tones  in  melody  and  har- 

23 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

mony,  that  brings  to  mind  and  heart  the  entire  meaning 
and  emotion  which  the  tone-poem  is  capable  of  present- 
ing. Such  listeners  are  en  rapport  with  Bach,  Beethoven, 
Mozart,  and  all  the  gods  and  demigods  in  the  musical 
hierarchy. 

This  it  is  that  makes  the  hearing  of  some  master- 
piece not  an  ear-tickling  amusement,  not  even  a  noble 
diversion,  but  a  lifcj  an  inspiration,  a  glimpse  of  heaven, 
wherein  the  heart  of  man  —  which  is  his  noblest  por- 
tion —  forgets  all  else,  and  lives  for  a  brief  hour  in  a 
supernal  world. 

The  inspired  words  of  tonal  language  penetrate  re- 
cesses of  man*s  nature  that  are  never  reached  by  loftiest 
oratory,  nor  by  any  of  the  beauty-forms  of  architecture, 
sculpture,  or  painting,  and  make  the  soul  plastic,  as  no 
other  words  can  do,  for  the  impress  of  noble  thoughts 
and  purposes.  This  is  the  unique  Art  —  the  only  one 
that  fires  the  blood,  and  stirs  to  action! 

Have  we  not  answered  the  question  what  Harmony 
can  do  for  the  student  who  never  aspires  to  any  creative 
work,  provided  his  study  has  been  so  directed  as  to  give 
him  this  intimate  knowledge  of  the  effect  and  meaning 
of  all  the  chords?  It  makes  him  sensitive  to  the  thou- 
sand tonal  impressions  that  before  crowded  upon  his 
ear  in  confused  and  meaningless  rapidity;  it  brings  order 
out  of  chaos,  throws  light  upon  the  darkness,  and  charms 
his  soul  with  visions  that  will  never  dawn  upon  a  dull 
and  sluggish  mind.  ^ 


24 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

The  so-called  **Laws  of  Harmony"  are  not  a  set  of 
enactments,  arbitrarily  imposed  by  eminent  authorities 
of  the  past,  and  to  be  unquestionably  accepted  by  all 
posterity.  They  are  simply  concise  statements  of  taste, 
evolved  through  the  discipline  of  long  experience,  and 
awaiting  the  endorsement  of  all  future  harmonists. 

On  many  fundamental  points,  as,  for  example,  the 
formation  of  the  major  and  minor  scales,  the  con- 
struction and  connection  of  simple  chords,  the  classifica- 
tion of  concords  and  discords,  the  proper  treatment  of 
the  discordant  element,  etc.,  all  musical  instinct,  in 
what  we  are  pleased  to  call  the  civilized  nations  of  the 
world,  is  in  substantial  agreement;  and  the  beginner  in 
Harmony  finds  prepared  for  him,  in  his  text-book,  not 
an  inexorable  schedule  of  despotic  requirements,  but  a 
code  of  suggestions^  a  statement  of  what  will  eventually 
be  his  own  preferences  regarding  the  main  features  of 
harmonic  construction.  And  he  should  be  encouraged 
and  urged,  from  the  outset  of  his  study,  to  approach  the 
subject  critically,  to  compare  his  own  taste  with  the  con- 
sensus of  opinion  as  expressed  in  the  pages  of  his  text- 
book, and  to  use  at  once  the  little  power  of  discrimina- 
tion he  may  possess,  as  the  quickest  means  of  cultivating 
his  taste,  and  sharpening  his  powers  of  discernment. 
Let  every  illustration  of  what  text-books  call  good  or 
bad  be  played,  and  thoughtfully  considered,  and  he  will 
be  encouraged  in  finding  that  the  majority  of  those 
illustrations  express  his  own  taste,  although  the  differ- 
ences between  the  good  and  the  bad  will  appeal  to  him 
more  and  more  strongly  after  longer  experience.  I  have 
very  rarely  called  the  attention  of  even  a  beginner  in 

25 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Harmony  to  a  point  of  excellence  or  defect  in  the  use  of 
chords,  without  finding  an  instant  response  in  the 
pupil's  mind.  In  this  way  the  external  prescription  be- 
comes an  internal  rule,  and  the  pupil  is  gradually  be- 
coming a  law  unto  himself. 

The  study  of  Harmony  is  utterly  useless,  except  as  it 
thus  makes  a  constant  appeal  to  the  pupil's  critical 
sense.  It  must  ever  be  a  matter  of  tones  to  be  heard ^  not 
of  notes  to  be  seen. 

The  beginner's  taste  is  dormant,  it  must  be  awakened ; 
it  is  crude,  it  must  be  refined;  and  this  will  be  the  in- 
evitable result,  when  the  study  is  properly  conducted; 
and  it  becomes  as  interesting  as  it  is  profitable,  when  the 
student  feels,  as  he  will  under  such  discipline,  the  gradual 
expansion  of  his  powers  in  grasping  the  effect  of  chords, 
and  thus  becoming  familiar  with  their  meaning.  If  this 
be  not  the  outcome  of  his  training,  all  that  he  has  learned 
is  not  worth  the  expense  even  of  the  paper  on  which  his 
exercises  are  written. 


26 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


The  Art  of  Phrasing 

^?^VERY  method  of  expressing  an  idea  is  a  mode  of 
JlC>  speech.  Articulate  language,  though  pre-eminent 
^^^  above  all  other  modes,  is  totally  inadequate  to 
express  certain  ideas  which  lie  quite  beyond  the  power 
of  any  verbal  utterance  —  a  declaration  to  the  mind 
and  soul  too  subtle  for  words.  "The  heavens  declare 
the  glory  of  God,"  though  they  have  "no  speech  nor 
language"  —  an  eternal  expression  more  sublime  than 
any  mundane  form  of  oratory.  Every  one  of  the  fine 
arts  speaks  its  own  ideas,  and  the  universe  is  full  of 
visible,  audible,  or  inaudible  messages  from  the  Mas- 
ter mind  to  His  creatures;  and  from  one  creative 
mind  to  another. 

Untranslatable  as  any  art-idea  is  into  human  phrase 
made  up  of  nouns,  adjectives  and  verbs  —  the  idea  of  a 
work  in  sculpture,  architecture,  painting  or  music  —  it 
is  in  some  ways  very  analogous  to  an  idea  that  comes  to 
us  through  the  medium  of  verbal  expression;  and  no- 
where is  the  analogy  carried  so  far  as  in  the  case  of  a 
musical  idea.  Indeed  the  analogy  is  so  far  perfect  that 
we  shall  best  arrive  at  the  purpose  of  this  essay,  which 
is,  to  explain  what  is  meant  by  phrasing  in  music,  by 
first  analyzing  an  ordinary  verbal  thought. 

Suppose  I  say,  "The  atmosphere  is  blue."  We  have 
here  a  single  and  complete  idea,  without  modification  of 
any  sort.  It  is  not  a  great  thought,  but  may  serve  as 
the  type  of  all  simple  thoughts  expressed  in  articulate 
phraseology.     It    stands    complete    and    alone    in    the 

27 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

mind,  isolated  from  every  other  thought,  or  any  modify- 
ing aspect  of  that  thought  that  might  be  in  more  or  less 
close  relation  to  it. 

If  I  say,  "The  atmosphere  is  blue,  and  of  a  deeper 
blue  in  winter  than  in  summer,"  we  have  added  to  it  a 
subsidiary  thought;  and  thereby  the  original  complete 
thought  now  seems  incomplete;  and  only  by  grasping 
the  double  phase  of  the  idea  can  we  say  that  the  thought 
is  complete,  and  the  sentence  finished.  In  the  ex- 
pression of  this  compound  thought,  we  again  have  one 
complete  sentence,  but  in  two  parts  closely  related. 

Suppose,  once  more,  that  I  say,  "The  atmosphere  is 
blue,  and  of  a  deeper  blue  in  winter  than  in  summer; 
yet  the  coloring  is  so  slight  that  one  must  look  through 
miles  of  it  to  perceive  the  color."  Here  we  have  a  three- 
fold statement,  not  complete  as  before,  at  the  end  of 
the  second  phrase,  but  fully  rounded  out,  by  the  newly 
added  qualification  in  regard  to  the  faintness  of  the 
coloring. 

This  compound  thought,  then,  is  expressed  in  the 
three  successive  phrases;  and  in  speaking  it,  the  voice 
falls  somewhat  after  each  phrase.  But  it  will  be  ob- 
served that  there  is  a  closer  union  of  the  first  two  phrases 
than  of  the  second  and  third;  and  the  proper  delivery 
of  the  sentence  calls  for  less  falling  of  the  voice,  and  for 
less  of  a  pause,  after  the  first  phrase  than  after  the 
second.  This  falling  of  the  voice  is  a  cadence;  for  the 
word  cadence  means  a  falling;  and  by  the  fall  and  by 
the  slight  delay  before  beginning  the  next  phrase  we 
have  the  proper  separation  of  the  several  elements  or 
phrases  of  the  entire  thought.    This  gives  a  suitable 

28 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

distinctiveness  to  each  organic  fragment  of  the  thought, 
thus  making  the  whole  idea  easily  intelligible  to  the 
listener.  It  is  essential  that  each  phrase  should  be 
grasped  in  its  own  individual  entirety  as  well  as  in  its 
coherence  with  the  rest  of  the  sentence,  and  this  pur- 
pose is  effected  by  the  modulation  of  the  voice,  and  by 
the  delay  in  passing  from  one  phrase  to  the  next. 

As  a  visible  sign  of  these  two  things,  we  have  the 
marks  of  punctuation,  which  make  it  easier  for  the  reader 
to  see  the  structure  of  the  sentence,  and  to  express  it 
properly.  In  the  sentence  quoted  above  we  have  a 
comma  after  the  first  phrase,  but  a  semicolon  after  the 
second,  showing  the  relative  degrees  of  separation  called 
for,  in  order  to  give  due  weight  to  each  subordinate  part 
of  the  idea.  A  period  follows  the  third  phrase,  show- 
ing that  the  sentence  is  completed;  and  this  indicates  a 
still  lower  fall  of  the  voice,  and  a  still  longer  pause. 

We  might  say  that  after  enunciating  each  phrase,  or 
fragment  of  the  thought,  the  mind,  as  it  were,  rests; 
and  the  amount  of  rest  is  proportionate  to  the  relative 
significance  of  each  phrase.  In  arriving  at  each  partial 
resting  place,  it  is  instinctive  for  the  voice  to  drop;  and 
in  gathering  itself  for  entrance  upon  a  new  phrase,  an 
instant  of  time  must  needs  elapse.  It  has  recently  been 
demonstrated  that  in  reading  the  written  page,  the  eye 
does  not  glide  along  continuously,  word  by  word,  but 
takes  in  words  by  groups,  so  that  its  motion  is  inter- 
mittent, with  an  instant  of  rest  after  each  movement. 
In  somewhat  the  same  manner  the  attention  is  focused 
from  phrase  to  phrase,  in  grasping  the  sense  of  what  is 
written.     The  punctuation  corresponds  to  this  division 

29 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

of  the  sentence  into  its  parts,  and  when  it  is  long  and 
intricate,  the  marks  are  of  the  greatest  assistance  in  the 
understanding  of  the  whole  idea.  The  smallest  organic 
parts  are  separated  only  by  a  comma;  larger  ones  by  a 
semicolon,  then  a  colon,  and  finally  a  period.  But  none 
of  these  few  marks  have  an  invariable  value.  The 
differences  in  the  amount  of  necessary  separation  are  too 
numerous  to  be  all  matched  by  their  proper  signs.  The 
period,  for  example,  has  a  wide  range  of  value,  as  indi- 
cating the  completion  of  a  thought.  In  a  lengthy  treatise 
upon  any  subject  we  have  the  whole  work  divided  into 
chapters,  each  chapter  into  paragraphs,  each  paragraph 
into  sentences;  and  chapter,  paragraph  and  sentence 
are  all  punctuated  with  a  period.  But  the  successive 
thoughts,  though  complete,  yet  in  a  sense  are  not  com- 
plete, and  the  voice  falls  more  at  the  end  of  a  paragraph 
than  at  the  end  of  a  sentence;  still  more  at  the  end  of 
the  chapter,  and  most  of  all  at  the  conclusion  of  the  work. 
Thus  the  same  mark  signifies  different  degrees  or  stages 
of  completeness  of  the  grand  idea.  The  accomplished 
reader  is  he  who  by  proper  pauses  and  modulation  of 
voice  indicates  the  respective  values  of  the  larger  and 
smaller  fragments  of  a  complete  but  complex  thought. 

We  have  taken  pains  to  state  the  philosophy  of  verbal 
phrasing  and  punctuation,  because  it  is  equally  appli- 
cable to  the  intelligent  interpretation  of  music.  A 
symphony  or  sonata  is  a  lengthy  musical  treatise, 
divided  into  chapters  —  called  movements  —  the  chap- 
ters into  distinct  sections  analogous  to  paragraphs,  and 
each  paragraph  into  a  number  of  small  fragments  re- 
sembling  phrases;     and   the   true   interpreter   has   his 

30 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

cadence  feeling  and  observes  the  pauses  precisely  as  the 
orator  or  reader.  The  rounding  out  of  a  musical  phrase 
so  as  to  suggest  a  cadence  feeling  is  effected  by  certain 
combinations  of  chords  called  cadences,  and  classified 
into  authentic,  half,  plagal,  etc.,  corresponding  in  strength 
to  the  various  sorts  of  punctuation;  and  in  proportion 
to  the  significance  of  each  phrase  must  be  its  accompany- 
ing pause. 

The  art  of  phrasing  is  simply  musical  elocution.  The 
sense  of  the  music  depends  just  as  much  upon  its  proper 
phrasing  as  does  that  of  the  verbal  page,  and  its  render- 
ing demands  the  fullest  insight  into  its  structure  —  a 
quality  of  work  upon  a  far  higher  plane  than  that  of 
digital  dexterity,  and  the  crowning  feature  in  an  artist's 
interpretation. 

The  playing  of  Hans  von  Biilow  many  years  ago  in 
this  country  did  not  excite  the  wild  enthusiasm  of  many 
a  subsequent  artist;  but  it  was  a  revelation  of  the 
significance  of  phrasing  that  was  quite  unknown  before, 
and  it  probably  produced  a  more  instructive  effect  upon 
musicians  than  that  of  any  other  piano  virtuoso. 


31 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


What  is  Counterpoint? 

^■JTHERE  is  probably  no  term  in  use  connected 
a|L  with  any  of  the  arts  which  to  the  popular  mind 
^^  seems  so  mysterious  and  profound  as  the  word 
counterpoint.  To  the  initiated,  however,  while  the 
word  is  shorn  of  all  its  mystery,  and  is  seen  to  have 
a  very  precise  and  easily  understood  signification,  it 
becomes,  on  the  other  hand,  one  of  the  most  pic- 
turesque and  expressive  words  in  the  language,  a  verbal 
portraiture  of  past  ages,  a  striking  summary  of  ancient 
history,  calling  up  the  vision  of  monasteries,  monks, 
and  monastic  occupations,  in  the  dark  period  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  when  goodness,  to  keep  itself  uncontami- 
nated  with  the  world,  fled  to  those  religious  retreats 
wherein  for  a  long  period  all  the  learning  of  Europe  was 
sheltered  as  in  an  ark  amid  the  ignorance  and  heath- 
enism that  prevailed. 

That  was  a  period  that  antedated  the  knowledge  of 
printing,  a  time  when  all  books  were  parchments,  and 
when  the  sacred  leisure  of  the  monks  was  largely  spent 
in  slowly  reduplicating  in  manuscript  all  works  of 
religion,  art  and  science,  often  with  exquisite  artistic 
decorations,  in  the  "illuminated"  copies  that  were  to 
be  the  admiration  of  future  generations. 

It  was  literally  the  pen  —  which  is  now  supplanted 
by  the  press  —  that  was  wielded  in  laborious  fashion, 
and  has  left  the  evidence  of  a  patient  zeal  that  was 
matched  by  an  ignorance  that  was  childlike,  as  com- 
pared with  those  discoveries  of  later  date  that   make 

32 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

so  much  of  the  wisdom  of  the  Middle  Ages  merely 
purile. 

Music,  like  everything  else,  found  its  only  cultivation 
in  these  monastic  retreats,  save  as  it  was  heard  through- 
out the  country  from  the  lips  and  strings  of  the  wander- 
ing bards,  who  charmed  their  listeners  with  their  crude 
but  poetic  ecstasies,  and  found  willing  listeners  to  their 
tales  of  love  and  war  even  among  the  austere  and 
peaceable  monks.  But  the  serious  and  systematic  cul- 
tivation of  music  was  only  within  these  hallowed  walls, 
and  consequently  sacred  music  was  the  highest  type  of 
the  art  in  those  olden  days;  and  for  centuries  all  the 
advance  made  therein  was  due  to  the  unconquerable 
zeal  of  these  few  conservators  of  righteousness  and 
truth ;  and  it  was  a  zeal  at  which  one  can  only  be  amazed, 
when  we  consider  in  how  rudimentary  a  condition  it  so 
long  remained,  unable,  as  we  should  suppose,  to  inspire 
any  ambition  for  its  further  prosecution.  And  to  the 
student  of  musical  history  it  is  perhaps  the  greatest 
mystery  that  is  anywhere  revealed  in  all  history,  that 
the  most  universal  and  instinctive  of  all  the  arts,  in  its 
very  nature  the  most  spontaneous  —  the  art  of  music  — 
has  been  the  last  of  the  arts  to  culminate,  and  has 
reached  its  climax  through  so  long  a  period  of  painful 
endeavors,  to  which  there  is  nothing  comparable  in  the 
development  of  painting,  sculpture,  or  architecture. 

The  Greeks  produced  masterpieces  in  stone,  which, 
comparatively  speaking,  seem  to  have  been  arrived  at 
by  a  bound,  and  which  have  been  the  admiration  and 
despair  of  all  subsequent  times.  And  apparently,  judg- 
ing from  the  very  few  remains  of  classic  pictorial  art, 

Z2, 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

whose  masterpieces  could  not  withstand  the  tooth  of 
time  like  unyielding  marble,  the  advance  of  the  Greeks 
in  painting  was  scarcely  if  at  all  inferior  to  that  of 
sculpture.  Their  music,  however,  according  to  all  avail- 
able evidence,  despite  the  panegyrics  of  their  poets,  was 
crude  to  the  last  degree,  and  to  modern  ears  would  be 
but  child's  play,  if  not  actual  torture.  Thus  the  buried 
civilization  of  antiquity  left  no  heritage,  as  a  substantial 
basis  to  build  upon,  and  still  less  as  models  to  emulate, 
to  the  early  Christian  centuries,  in  this  art  which  at  the 
dawn  of  our  era  began  from  the  foundation  its  unique 
■career,  to  become  eventually  more  widely  influential  as 
a  household  possession  than  any  other  art. 

Without  denying  that  the  music  of  the  first  ten  cen- 
turies of  our  era  was  in  a  way  impressive  to  its  hearers  — 
otherwise  they  would  have  had  no  lasting  impulse  to 
cultivate  it  —  it  yet  remains  simply  inconceivable  how 
it  could  have  been  so,  to  any  modern  musician  who 
analyzes  its  details,  and  reproduces  in  imagination  its 
effects.  For  at  that  period  it  was  quite  devoid  of  what 
we  regard  as  the  two  essentials  of  all  music  —  which 
are,  indeed,  the  sum  total  of  the  art  to  our  ears  — 
melody  and  harmony.  At  that  time,  melody,  as  we 
understand  it,  was  absolutely  unknown,  what  passed 
by  that  name  being  but  a  meaningless  succession  of 
tones  unrelated  in  rhythm,  and  only  obscurely  related 
in  scale;  yet,  we  must  confess,  appealing  to  its  auditors 
sufficiently  to  command  their  respect,  and  to  inspire 
them  to  strive  for  its  higher  development. 

And  this  so-called  melody  was  devoid  of  any  artistic 
harmony,  either  vocal  or  instrumental,  save  as  it  was 

34 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

incoherently  and  unsystematically  supported  here  and 
there  by  additional  tones  that  showed  a  groping  for 
harmonic  effects  not  less  grotesque  than  were  their 
strivings  for  melody. 

The  monks  all  sang  in  unison  in  those  early  days,  and 
their  efforts  to  learn  and  to  transmit  the  melodies  of 
their  service  were  certainly  most  arduous,  for  they  had 
only  the  crudest  system  of  notation  —  no  staff  as  we 
have  —  and  by  placing  notes  higher  and  lower  on  the 
paper  they  tried  to  convey  the  idea  how  much  the  voice 
was  to  rise  and  fall.  The  result  was  that  oral  instruction 
was  the  only  reliable  means  of  securing  the  exact  per- 
formance of  any  melody.  Without  the  modern  sense  of 
precise  rhythm,  their  efforts  to  indicate  the  duration  of 
tones  were  equally  unavailing,  except  as  the  singers  imi- 
tated some  person*s  actual  performance.  The  result  was 
that  the  melodies  were  principally  acquired  by  a  parrot- 
like imitation  of  a  monk  who  was  competent  to  sing  the 
music  in  the  traditional  way.  It  will  be  at  once  under- 
stood what  a  precarious  method  this  was  for  the  trans- 
mission of  time-honored  melodies  to  future  generations. 
Doubtless  they  were  measurably  successful,  for  it  was 
not  with  them  so  much  a  matter  of  artistic  ambition  as 
of  religious  principle;  and. some  of  the  melodies  that 
have  remained  to  the  present  day  may  certainly  be  re- 
garded as  showing  the  style  of  their  melodic  thought, 
even  though  the  thoughts  themselves  may  have  suffered 
alteration  by  the  unreliable  method  of  transmission. 
But  the  inherent  musical  nature  of  the  more  gifted 
monks  who  appeared  from  time  to  time,  and  were 
accounted  as  authorities  among  their  contemporaries,  in 

35 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

the  course  of  the  centuries  gave  fresh  impulse  to  the  art; 
and  the  names  of  the  great  musicians  of  the  Middle 
Ages  are  the  names  of  churchmen  who  felt  deeper  and 
saw  further  than  their  companions,  and  succeeded  in 
raising  the  musical  element  of  the  service  to  a  higher 
plane  of  utility  and  artistic  excellence. 

The  vital  principle  of  music  is  in  the  melody  rather 
than  in  the  harmony,  and  it  was  melody  that  was  first 
seized  upon  and  cultivated,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  syste- 
matic attempts  at  its  harmonization.  Yet  a  vague  long- 
ing for  that  which,  though  it  be  but  an  adjunct,  can 
alone  give  to  melody  its  full  significance,  has,  as  we  have 
said,  been  apparent  from  the  earliest  days.  The  harp, 
in  primitive  form,  figures  conspicuously  in  the  minstrelsy 
of  all  ages,  and  the  variety  of  instruments  used  in  the 
ancient  Jewish  service  must  certainly  be  thought  of  as 
attempting,  hov/ever  crudely,  a  concord  of  sound. 
Yet  many  centuries  rolled  by  before  the  mind  grappled 
seriously  with  this  essential  element  of  modern  music; 
and  the  raw,  haphazard  harmonies  of  the  Greeks  and  of 
the  early  Christian  church  were  but  the  dim  and  slum- 
bering presentiment  of  that  long-delayed  and  mighty 
revolution  in  the  art,  when  harmony  should  become 
the  efficient  and  indispensable  factor  that  it  now  is. 

More  important  than  all  the  improvements  in  notation, 
essential  as  they  were  for  precise  indication  of  pitch  and 
rhythm,  and  without  which  further  progress  would  have 
been  impossible,  the  most  revolutionary  step  in  the  ex- 
pansion of  the  art  was  the  first  systematic  attempt  at 
harmony  as  now  universally  accepted.  Elementary  to 
the  last  degree,  barbaric  in  some  of  its  earliest  effects, 

36 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

faulty  as  all  first  attempts  in  a  new  art  always  are,  we 
owe  a  debt  of Jgratitude  to  the  bold  spirits  that  took  the 
first  steps  in  the  untrodden  field,  for  it  signified  the 
utter  transformation  of  the  art,  making  possible  its  de- 
velopment and  refinement  in  all  its  complex  relations 
and  ultimate  details.  Melody  was  no  longer  to  stand 
alone;  it  was  to  have  harmonic  support  which  of  itself 
indeed  would  be  meaningless,  but  without  which  melody 
itself  loses  half  its  force,  and  must  inevitably  have 
withered  like  a  plant  in  dry  ground. 

Let  us  now  trace  the  meaning  of  the  term  counter- 
point, and  briefly  illustrate  the  gradual  development  of 
systematic  harmonization. 

A  tone  added  to  one  already  sounding,  in  a  sense 
stands  over  against  it,  or  may  be  called  counter  to  it; 
one  note,  joined  to  another,  and  sounding  simultane- 
ously, is  a  counter-note.  But  in  those  early  days,  when 
music  was  written  and  not  printed,  the  natural  term  to 
use  for  note  was  point,  being  made  by  the  pressure  of 
the  pen  or  quill.  Thus  in  the  addition  of  a  series  of 
tones  to  accompany  a  given  melody,  the  notation  of  it 
was  by  a  succession  of  points  —  that  is,  of  counterpoints. 

Suppose  the  original  melody  to  be  the  following  series 
of  whole  notes,  then  the  added  notes  constitute  the 
counterpoint  to  that  melody. 


i 


After  the  innovation   of  counterpoint,   the   original 
melody  took  the  name  of  "Cantus  firmus,"  as  being  the 

37 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

unchangeable  song  which  had  been  in  use  for  centuries; 
the  idea  being  that  while  different  series  of  accompany- 
ing tones,  by  different  composers,  might  be  sung,  the 
melody  was  always  to  remain  unaltered.  Another  name 
given  to  the  melody  was  "Plain  Song,"  referring  to  the 
original  simplicity  of  the  melody  as  contrasted  with  the 
more  florid  effects  introduced  in  the  counterpoint,  as 
the  art  progressed. 

As  the  novelty  of  the  new  art  wore  off,  it  fell  to  a 
subordinate  position,  and  the  fuller  significance  of 
melody  became  recognized.  But  for  a  period  it  almost 
monopolized  the  interest  of  the  composer,  and  the  in- 
vention of  the  accompaniment  was  the  most  fascinating 
part  of  his  work.  This  extreme  popularity  of  harmony 
explains  how  a  composition  whose  melody  was  already 
well  known  was  often  attributed  to  one  who  had  ably 
harmonized  it.  This  is  true  in  the  case  of  many  chorals 
attributed  to  Martin  Luther,  who  often,  by  revising  and 
harmonizing  an  air,  adapted  it  to  the  service  .:of  the 
church. 

The  definition  of  counterpoint  is  thus  seen  to  be  very 
simple.  We  may  say  it  has  two  meanings;  the  one 
broad,  the  other  limited  and  strictly  technical.  In  the 
broad  sense,  all  harmony  accompanying  a  melody  con- 
stitutes its  counterpoint;  just  as  applicable  to  the  un- 
derlying parts  of  a  waltz,  or  the  jingling  strains  of  a 
harmonized  street  song,  as  to  a  German  choral  or  to  a 
Bach  fugue.  In  the  technical  sense  it  is  limited  to  a 
special  form  of  harmonizing,  wherein  the  several  under- 
lying voices  have  a  large  measure  of  rhythmical  indi- 
viduality, so  that  they  more  or  less  approximate  to, 

38 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

even  if  they  do  not  reach,  the  character  of  distinct 
melodies.  In  the  broad  sense,  the  accompaniment  of 
the  following  melodic  phrase  constitutes  its  counter- 
point, as  being  tones  counter  to  the  melody. 


In  the  restricted  sense  the  following  is  called  contra- 
puntal, wherein  the  four  voices  show  a  marked  degree 
of  independence  of  each  other  in  variety  of  rhythm, 
with  some  measure  of  melodic  quality  in  each. 


J^J  I  i-J  J^^^ 


y2 


m 


i^ 


^ 


1-^— 

^ 

s 


171 


39 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


td: 


& 


f=f^ 


i 


e 


It  is  in  the  fugue  that  the  contrapuntist  is  enabled  to 
display  the  highest  possibilities  of  his  art  —  a  species  of 
composition  that  no  longer  holds  the  prominent  position 
it  once  occupied,  for  reasons  we  will  not  here  enumerate, 
although  it  affords  a  species  of  discipline  not  to  be 
gained  in  any  other  form  of  composition. 

Such  then  is  the  signification  of  the  term  counter- 
point; the  study  of  which  is  designed  to  make  one  pro- 
ficient in  harmonizing  a  melody  —  not  alone  those  melo- 
dies of  the  severe  sort,  known  as  fugue  themes,  but  those 
which  are  such  in  popular  acceptation. 

By  a  faithful  study  of  Harmony,  one  can  m^aster  it  in 
a  comparatively  short  time,  so  that  it  would  be  super- 
fluous to  linger  longer  upon  it,  after  becoming  adept 
in  chord  formation  and  progression.  But  Counter- 
point is  limitless,  it  can  profitably  be  studied  forever  in 
its  higher  ranges;  for  when  the  cantus  firmus  itself  is 
elaborated,  as  in  a  fugue  theme,  the  resources  of  counter- 
point are  inexhaustible,  and  the  student  becomes  ever 
more  and  more  pr6ficient  in  the  force,  freshness  and  re- 
finement of  harmonization. 

If  the  serviceableness  of  counterpoint  were  limited  to 
its  preparation  for  fugue  writing,  it  would  scarcely  be 

40 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

worth  the  labor  in  these  days  when  the  fugue  no  longer 
stands  at  the  pinnacle  in  the  composer's  art.  We  will 
explain  elsewhere  the  decadence  of  the  art  of  Fugue. 
But  Counterpoint  is  as  essential  as  ever  for  giving  one  a 
mastery  of  all  harmonic  forms,  whatever  be  the  style  of 
composition.  All  true  music  has  melody,  and  that 
melody  must  be  reinforced  by  harmony;  and  as  the 
''development'*  —  as  it  is  called  —  of  any  species  of 
theme  consists  largely  in  the  variety  of  its  harmonic 
reinforcement,  the  composer  certainly  needs  all  the 
equipment  that  the  most  rigid  contrapuntal  discipline 
can  furnish.  No  melody,  however  fine,  can  hold  its  own 
against  ineffective  harmonizing,  and  the  reaction  against 
the  strenuous  course  of  study  that  was  in  vogue  when 
the  great  masterpieces  of  music  were  being  produced, 
seems  to  be  due  to  the  supposition,  that  because  fugue 
has  passed  out  of  fashion,  the  art  of  harmonizing  that 
was  indispensable  for  fugue  no  longer  needs  cultivation. 
Students  of  the  present  day  have  no  idea  of  the 
severity  of  preparation  that  was  undergone  by  those  of 
earlier  times,  and  as  a  result,  both  as  instrumentalists, 
as  singers  and  as  composers,  they  rush  into  public  view 
ill-prepared  for  the  r61e  they  assume  to  be  able  to  fill, 
apparently  thinking  they  have  found  a  royal  road,  short 
and  of  easy  grade,  to  that  eminence  up  which  all  the 
composers  of  the  past  climbed  slowly  and  laboriously. 
The  higher  the  building  the  deeper  and  more  substantial 
must  be  the  sub-structure,  and  we  may  well  doubt  if 
we  shall  ever  see  another  period  of  pre-eminence  in 
composition  until  we  see  a  disposition  to  revert  to  the 
well-tried  and  productive  methods  of  past  times. 

41 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

We  will  add  one  more  explanation  in  regard  to  coun- 
terpoint. It  is  of  two  sorts,  simple  and  double.  In 
simple  counterpoint  the  voices  or  parts  are  so  composed 
as  to  be  in  proper  relation  to  each  other  just  as  they 
originally  stand,  without  being  capable  of  being  trans- 
ferred one  to  another;  in  double  counterpoint  the  parts 
are  so  written  that  they  will  also  be  correct  when  trans- 
posed; as,  for  example,  that  the  soprano  should  be 
written  an  octave  lower  and  be  sung  by  the  tenor,  and 
the  tenor  part  written  an  octave  higher  and  be  sung 
by  the  soprano.  Such  transposing  of  parts  is  called 
"inversion,"  and  requires  greater  skill  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  voices.  The  following  illustrates  the  ef- 
fect in  two-part  harmony,  when  the  two  parts  are  in- 
verted : 


i 


.rrr'W^j'V^'.''t^i:;rr 


Inversion  m  the  octave  ,  ^      I  i  i    i^   , 


w 


Such  inversion  produces  a  somewhat  similar  effect,  as 
the  parts  themselves  are  identical;  and  yet  there  is  a 
difference,  as  the  intervals  between  the  voices  are  differ- 
ent throughout.  This  inversion  is  called  "inversion  in 
the  octave,"  because  one  part  has  been  carried  higher  or 
lower  by  just  an  octave;  and  this  is  the  interval  usually 
adopted  at  present  in  double  counterpoint.     In  much 

42 


) 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


earlier  times,  composers  practiced  inversions  in  all  the 
intervals;  but  they  were  gradually  reduced  in  number, 
until  the  intervals  of  the  tenth  and  twelfth  were  the 
only  ones  ever  used,  in  addition  to  the  octave,  and  these 
but  rarely;  and  some  teachers  at  present  make  no 
mention  of  them  at  all.  The  following  counterpoint  is 
so  written  as  to  admit  of  inversion  in  the  tenth: 


i 


^ 


i 


j—^ 


r 

Inversion  in  the  Tenth 

l-H^-) 


^—»- 


frifrrr 


itbt 


■^ 


u    t     * 


i?    I    J     LI  I  I        J   J I J    J     1   JTJ— T 


t=t 


-*—•■ 


^ 


r^f 


The  following  is  an  example  of  inversion  in  the  twelfth, 
in  which  it  will  be  seen  that  the  third  is  the  safest  in- 
terval to  use,  as  it  inverts  into  a  third. 


i 


l^  ^  id^^^ 


\^  '  *\i 


*t 


-¥^ 


^ 


^4- 


i-n 


^^ 


r 


43 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


i 


Inversion  in  the  twelfth 


(i 


;:F=F 


m 


^ 


^^^p — 1=- 


i 


i 


¥ 


[^ 


#— ^ 


-i9- 


S=^ 


i=F 


=*=F 


If  one  would  see  a  fine  example  of  double  counter- 
point in  the  octave,  let  him  examine  the  famous  quar- 
tet from  Beethoven's  Fidelio,  and  see  the  combination 
of  unity  and  variety  therein  afforded  by  the  use  of  this 
art.  Another  beautiful  example,  worthy  of  careful 
study,  is  in  the  Allegro  movement  of  the  Kyrie  of 
Mozart's  Requiem,  wherein  the  theme  of  the  fugue  is 
accompanied  by  a  part  that  appears  at  one  time  above 
and  at  another  time  below  —  an  instance  of  skilful 
writing,  in  the  application  of  an  art  in  composition  that 
has  mostly  passed  out  of  use,  through  the  indifference 
and  incompetency  of  more  modern  composers. 


^ 


w 


b^^ 


*t 


t=r- 


44 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


(^^^^^^^^ 


(^^^^^^^ 


Inversion 


« 


1^ 


^^S5te^3 


^^g 


e 


nararrr:. 


SB 


Lie' 


im 


"letc. 


We  have  thus  presented  in  outline  the  nature  of 
counterpoint,  and  the  history  of  its  origin  and  develop- 
ment. The  account  is  too  cursory  to  be  of  assistance  to 
students,  in  furnishing  the  specific  rules  that  would 
direct  their  studies;  it  is  intended  rather  as  a  state- 
ment that  will  make  even  the  novice  somewhat  intelli- 
gent as  to  the  scope  of  this  branch  of  theory.  For  one 
may  lack  even  the  slightest  technical  skill  in  an  art, 
and  yet  have  quite  a  clear  understanding  of  its  principles, 

4S 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

and  even  be  an  authoritative  critic  in  regard  to  the  ap- 
plication of  those  principles.  Such  acquaintance  with 
any  subject,  though  superficial,  gives  breadth  to  one's 
intelligence  and  appreciation.  In  this  way,  one  who  is 
no  musician,  in  the  accepted  sense,  can,  with  small  out- 
lay of  time,  understand  the  scope  of  every  branch  of 
musical  theory  and  practice. 


46 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 


Organ   Versus   Orchestra 

^yrHE  two  pre-eminent  instrumental  forces  in  the 
ilL  world  —  organ  and  orchestra  —  stand  in  peculiar 
^■^  relation  to  each  other.  With  points  of  resem- 
blance, so  that  the  former  often  seems  a  somewhat 
pale  and  ineffectual  imitation  of  the  latter,  there  are 
even  more  points  of  contrast,  the  contrast  being  of  a 
most  contradictory  sort.  In  fact,  these  two  forces 
stand  in  a  position  of  quiet  but  determined  belliger- 
ency toward  each  other.  At  times  pleasantly  compati- 
ble, there  is  a  strong  undercurrent  of  antagonism  which 
IS  aptly  expressed  by  some  one  who  has  called  them 
both  kings.  Hector  Berlioz  amended  and  improved 
the  simile  by  saying  they  are  not  two  kings,  but  that 
the  orchestra  is  king,  and  the  organ,  Pope  —  a  strik- 
ing expression  of  the  dominating  spirit  of  what  is  popu- 
larly called  "the  king  of  instruments." 

Organists  are  constantly  endeavoring  to  produce 
"orchestral  effects,"  and  extreme  ingenuity  is  displayed 
by  many  concert  performers  in  this  direction  by  the 
various  combinations  of  stops:  as  if  the  highest  achieve- 
ment in  an  organ  display  were  in  showing  its  powers  of 
imitation.  And,  of  a  truth,  these  imitations  are  often 
very  successful,  to  be  followed  by  others  that  are  equally 
lamentable  failures;  which  results  from  the  con- 
fused resemblance  and  contrariety  of  the  two  instru- 
ments. 

There  is  no  other  instance  in  which  two  distinct  types 
of  instruments  overlap  each  other  in  the  legitimacy  of 

47 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

their  range  of  effects,  though  in  this  respect  the  organ  is 
more  versatile  than  the  orchestra. 

If  an  organist  is  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  orchestral 
spirit,  while  sometimes  misusing  the  instrument  in 
attempts  at  orchestral  coloring,  he  will  display  many  a 
beauty  lying  within  the  scope  of  the  instrument  not  to 
be  revealed  by  one  whose  imagination  responds  only  to 
the  severer  or  more  profound  forms  of  musical  thought, 
which  are  by  many  regarded  as  the  more  normal  type 
of  organ  music. 

This  dual  capacity  of  the  organ  makes  the  line  of 
separation  between  the  respective  provinces  of  the  two 
instruments  an  elusive  one,  and  prolific  in  argumenta- 
tion, according  to  individual  temperament.  In  the  use 
of  the  organ  one  cannot  possess  too  much  temperament, 
but  it  must  be  held  in  restraint  by  sound  judgment. 

Even  the  stops  that  most  nearly  resemble  orchestral 
instruments  —  clarinet,  flute  and  oboe,  with  certain 
"string  tones"  of  more  modern  invention  —  lack  a  cer- 
tain human  quality  found  in  the  originals,  and  are  most 
effective  when  characterized  by  a  true  organ  method  of 
treatment,  wherein  the  orchestral  suggestion  is  quite 
secondary. 

The  crowning  effect  of  every  musical  instrument  is  in 
that  personal  touch  that  identifies  the  instrument  with 
the  performer.  In  this  lies  the  pre-eminence  of  the 
human  voice,  the  great  God-given  instrument,  which  is 
a  vital  part  of  the  performer  himself.  Unique  in  this  re- 
spect it  stands  supreme;  and  in  proportion  as  the  tone 
of  any  other  instrument  is  under  the  immediate  sway 
of  the  performer,  responsive  to  his  subtlest  change  of 

48 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

mood,  with  the  least  possible  intervention  of  mechanical 
appliance,  in  that  proportion  —  the  tone  quality  apart  — 
is  the  tone  capable  of  receiving  the  full  impulse  of  the 
mind  and  heart  of  the  performer.  Violin  and  virtuoso 
seem  blended  in  one  corporeality,  for  there  is  the  slightest 
possible  barrier  of  the  bow  between  the  instrument  and 
the  musician.  In  wind  instruments  the  breath  of  the 
player  conveys  his  own  spirit  into  the  vibrating  column 
of  air,  moulding  the  quality  and  volume  of  tone  from 
the  most  delicate  and  tremulous  to  the  most  inspiriting 
and  triumphant. 

In  piano  and  organ,  the  intermediary  mechanism  puts 
the  artist  at  a  longer  reach  from  the  tone  produced ;  and 
in  proportion  as  it  is  less  responsive,  it  falls  farther 
short  of  absorbing  and  expressing  the  full  animus  of 
the  player. 

This,  however,  is  not  conclusive  of  the  entire  in- 
feriority of  piano  and  organ  to  the  voice,  the  violin  and 
the  orchestra,  the  last  of  which  finds  its  stupendous 
power  in  being  a  multiple  personality,  every  string  and 
pulsation  of  air  from  thirty,  sixty  or  a  hundred  per- 
formers being  in  the  most  immediate  relation  to  the  indi- 
vidual performers  —  a  thrilling  concentration  of  personal 
energy.  Loss  in  one  direction,  however,  niay  be  com- 
pensated by  a  gain  in  other  directions,  and  in  one  re- 
spect the  voice  and  violin  —  the  grandest  exponents  of 
melody  —  are  notably  inferior  to  the  piano  and  organ, 
being  incapable  of  harmonic  support  of  the  melody. 

Harmony  being  an  essential  element  of  music,  the 
piano  gains  a  peculiar  pre-eminence  by  virtue  of  a  sing- 
ing quality  of  tone  combined  with  a  crispness,  fullness 

49 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

and  virility  of  supporting  harmony  that  measurably  ap- 
proaches the  characteristics  of  the  stringed  instru- 
ments, each  element  of  the  harmony  also  susceptible  of 
the  requisite  emphasis,  as  in  the  orchestra,  though  lack- 
ing the  differentiation  of  tone-color.  This  capacity  of 
the  piano,  this  unique  sum  total  of  qualifications,  makes 
it  inevitably  the  universal  instrument  of  the  musical 
world,  whatever  its  shortcomings  in  many  respects; 
available  also,  as  no  other  instrument  is,  through  its 
cost  and  size,  for  gratifying  the  general  musical  mood 
and  temperament. 

But,  with  all  its  melodic  and  harmonic  capacity,  its 
flexibility  and  piquancy,  its  thrilling  climaxes,  and  its 
superb  diminuendos,  this  again  lacks,  as  all  other  in- 
struments lack,  the  peculiar  majesty,  the  tremendous 
power,  and  the  surpassing  serenity  of  a  mighty  organ  — 
the  instrument  par  excellence  of  spiritual  enthusiasm,  of 
deep  devotion,  and  of  the  heart's  truest  peace. 

The  piano  is  in  the  mood  of  home  life,  in  the  wide 
variety  of  its  experiences;  the  organ  has  the  churchly 
mood.  Grave,  but  not  necessarily  sombre,  there  is  an 
undertone  of  seriousness  in  all  music  congenial  to  this 
instrument,  that  is  repugnant  to  any  approach  to 
frivolity.  No  other  instrument  is  so  nobly  jealous  of  its 
dignity.  Merriment  is  within  the  bounds  of  its  versatile 
mood,  but  triviality  and  flippancy  would  be  desecration. 
Indeed,  there  is  no  way  so  conclusive  in  which  this  in- 
strument is  plainly  seen  to  be  unique  among  all  others, 
as  in  the  fact  that  however  noble  their  effects  at  times 
may  be,  a  trivial  misuse  of  them  does  not  essentially 
degrade   them.     In   their   frivolous   employment   they 

50 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

still  have  something  in  their  nature  congenial  to  it. 
The  violin  may  be  for  elegies,  but  it  is  for  the  dance- 
hall,  too.  The  piano  is  the  worthy  exponent  of  Beetho- 
ven concertos,  but  one  does  not  feel  that  it  is  being  in- 
sulted when  brought  down  to  the  level  of  a  two-step. 
Both  instruments  have  a  composite  nature,  capable  of  the 
highest  and  the  lowest  in  art.  The  two  elements  in  their 
constitution  may  be  at  war  with  each  other,  but  it  is  a 
union  of  the  spiritual  and  the  carnal.  The  organ  alone 
has  that  singleness  and  loftiness  of  character  that  make 
it  the  grandest  instrumental  exponent  of  the  soul's  high- 
est aspirations.  Whoever  would  be  a  master  of  this  in- 
strument must  have  a  reverent  spirit. 


5x 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


The  Downfall  of  the  Fugue 

^^N  the  time  of  Bach  the  fugue  was  the  consum- 
^1  mate  flower  of  musical  composition.  Other 
^*^  styles  of  writing,  as  distinctive  types,  were  few, 
and  those  few  were  ill-developed.  The  modern  orches- 
tra, with  its  thousand  charms  of  tone  color,  its  maze 
of  interwoven  melodies,  its  brilliant  and  sonorous  sweep 
of  harmonies,  was  only  in  embryo.  The  fugue  was 
the  goal  of  all  aspiring  composers,  and  all  the  wealth 
of  contrapuntal  skill,  all  the  resources  of  artistic  inge- 
nuity, were  lavished  upon  this  supreme  idol  of  the 
composer.  Within  this  province,  so  contracted  in 
many  ways,  so  limitless  in  other  ways,  the  most  pro- 
found thinker  could  expatiate,  with  the  consciousness 
of  inexhaustible  variety  in  harmonic  combinations,  in 
drawing  ever  closer  to,  yet  never  attaining,  the  su- 
preme ideal  of  the  fugue,  which  makes  it  the  unique, 
most  difficult  and  crowning  form  of  all  composition, 
wherein  each  voice  or  part  is  at  once  a  distinctive  melody 
and  an  element  of  the  harmony.  Bach  himself,  that 
giant  harmonist  and  contrapuntist,  did  not  attain  to 
the  ideal.  Every  part  was  not  of  equal  melodic  signifi- 
cance, wonderful  as  the  parts  may  have  been  in  their 
harmonic  aspect.  It  is  no  disparagement  of  the  grandeur 
of  his  writing  to  say  that  he  was  the  unsuccessful  though 
foremost  exponent^  of  a  form  of  composition  that  in- 
volves possibilities  which,  within  the  compass  of  the 
longest  life  of  the  most  gifted  genius,  are  absolutely 
unattainable. 

52 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Yet  the  fugue,  though  infinite  in  extent,  and  unap- 
proachable in  its  ideal,  was  but  one  side  of  the  entire  art. 
It  is  no  disparagement  of  mountain  ranges  and  of 
oceanic  masses  to  say  that  each  fills  its  own  place 
supremely  in  the  display  of  nature,  but  that  each  is 
powerless  to  fill  another's  place  as  an  exponent  of  beauty 
and  grandeur.  Like  the  material  creation,  musical  art 
is  a  stupendous  composite,  a  sublime  organism,  each 
member  of  which  has  its  own  indisputable  function,  and 
all  conspiring  in  harmonious  rivalry  to  aid  the  heart  of 
man  to  express  his  deepest  sentiments  that  transcend 
the  power  of  articulate  speech,  in  tones  that  sweep  the 
gamut  from  the  heights  of  heaven  to  the  abyss  of  hell. 

The  fugue,  concentrated  pabulum  for  even  the  most 
disciplined  musician,  must  needs  be  beyond  the  ap- 
preciation of  those  less  deeply  versed  in  the  art.  With 
the  development  of  other  types  of  melody,  less  intel- 
lectual, more  emotional,  with  the  creation  of  new  and 
distinctive  sorts  of  instruments,  and  the  gradual  evo- 
lution of  that  greatest  of  all  instruments  —  the  modern 
orchestra  —  the  scope  of  the  art  was  wonderfully  ex- 
panded; sentiments  that  had  found  no  expression  in 
that  phase  of  art  that  was  represented  in  contrapuntal 
harmonizing  and  in  fugal  forms,  were  warmed  into  a 
deeper  glow  by  the  sympathetic  expression  of  more 
sensuous  harmony  and  melody;  and  the  fugue,  from  be- 
ing the  Jupiter  Tonans  on  the  Olympian  mount,  became 
a  comparatively  inconspicuous  member  of  an  ever-in- 
creasing coterie  of  charming  and  graceful  divinities, 
which,  at  the  present  time,  hold  such  full  sway  in  the 
world,  that  the  once  supreme  god  of  the  art  is  now  al- 

53 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 

most  forgotten;  or,  if  spoken  of,  only  mentioned  in  cold 
terms  of  traditional  respect,  if  not  boldly  and  flippantly 
ridiculed  as  an  effete  specimen  of  outlived  antiquity. 

In  one  sense  the  day  of  the  fugue  is  irrevocably  past. 
The  art  is  too  many-sided  to  allow  any  one  of  its  mani- 
festations to  challenge  undivided  service  or  a  preponder- 
ating admiration  from  the  world  at  large.  We  may,  per- 
haps, say  that  the  world  is  a  happier  world  now  than 
when  it  was  living  in  the  long  cast  shadows  of  the 
sombre  Middle  Ages,  and  that  form  of  art  will  find  the 
widest  and  the  heartiest  response  which  is  in  accord  with 
the  world's  more  joyous  sentiments.  The  fugue  is  too 
cold  and  serious  a  form  of  art  expression  to  blend  easily 
with  the  modern  mood,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that 
it  is  a  type  that  demands  too  much  effort  and  too  much 
technical  appreciation  to  win  its  way  into  the  heart  that 
is  not  cast  in  a  rather  stem  and  rigid  mould. 

The  fugue,  as  an  endj  has  had  its  day,  but  the  fugue, 
as  a  means,  is  not  and  never  will  be  a  merely  antiquated 
mode  of  art  expression.  The  neglect  of  discipline  in 
fugue  writing  can  never  be  compensated  for  by  efforts  in 
other  directions,  and  none  have  more  fully  appreciated 
its  value  than  those  composers  whose  names  have  been 
immortalized  by  their  masterly  productions  in  the  more 
popular  lines  of  composition.  The  essential  demands  for 
a  well-written  fugue  are  the  skilful  combination  of  har- 
monies, and  that  interweaving  of  voices  which  can  be 
acquired  only  in  the  mastery  of  contrapuntal  writing. 
A  composition  that  rests  upon  fundamental  harmonies 
that  are  ill-chosen,  that  are  not,  as  we  might  say,  coa- 
lescent,  is,  in  its  essential  structure  a  weak,  not  to  say,  a 

54 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

rotten  structure,  and  no  amount  of  brilliant  decoration 
can  hide  the  structural  deformity.  The  compositions 
that  are  permanently  enjoyable  show  always  a  lucid, 
simple,  yet  fresh  and  strong,  harmonic  basis;  and  the 
free  and  skilful  handling  of  the  voices,  in  all  species  of 
composition,  as  well  as  the  choice  of  natural  and  effect- 
ive harmonies,  is  most  thoroughly  acquired  in  the  long 
discipline  of  counterpoint  and  fugue.  But  "long  disci- 
pline" is  what  the  modern  student  is  quite  averse  to. 
In  the  confidence  that  is  engendered  by  ignorance,  he 
believes  that  a  smattering  knowledge  of  the  various  de- 
tails of  his  art  will  be  fully  supplemented  by  his  native 
genius,  and  that  his  nature  is  so  much  richer  than  that 
of  his  illustrious  predecessors  that  he  can  reap  golden 
fruit  with  very  little  laborious  tilling  of  the  soil.  The 
ignorance,  still  more  dense,  of  his  friends,  often  confirms 
him  in  his  self-laudatory  opinion,  and  he  confidently  un- 
dertakes the  vain  task  of  rising  without  climbing;  and 
he  usually  lays  the  blame  of  his  ill  success  upon  any 
reason  whatsoever  but  the  right  one  —  the  victim  of 
circumstances  —  an  unappreciative  public,  etc.  What- 
ever the  future  of  composition,  it  is  safe  to  predict,  that 
until  students  take  the  subject  as  seriously  as  it  was 
taken  by  the  eminent  composers  of  past  times,  no  en- 
during monuments  will  be  produced  that  will  hold  a 
place  in  the  category  of  standard  productions. 

When  an  idol  has  ceased  to  be  worshipped,  it  eventually 
falls  to  the  point  where  it  is  regarded  with  interested 
curiosity;  and  for  the  sake  of  such  as  are  ignorant  of  the 
precise  nature  of  that  species  of  composition  that  has 
been  so  widely  cultivated  in  the  past,  and  is  now  be- 

55 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

coming  more  and  more  obsolete,  we  will  endeavor,  in 
few  words,  to  explain  its  mode  of  construction. 

In  general,  a  fugue  has  one  short,  melodic  phrase, 
which  is  called  the  subject,  or  theme,  just  as  any  compo- 
sition has  one  predominant  melody.  But  the  "melody" 
of  a  fugue  is  of  a  very  different  sort  from  what  passes 
under  that  name  at  the  present  day.  It  is  not  a  catch- 
ing phrase,  that  one  instinctively  seizes  and  retains  in 
his  memory.  It  lacks  the  warmth,  the  emotional  ele- 
ment, that  characterize  the  popular  melody  of  the  day. 
It  lacks  color;  it  is  cold;  it  is  intellectual  rather  than 
sentimental;  it  is  more  like  mathematics  than  like 
botany;  it  is  more  like  a  monument  in  stone  than  like 
an  oil  painting;  it  is  stern  and  severe,  rather  than  joy- 
ous and  smiling.  An  expert  theorist  feels  its  power,  and 
profoundly  admires  its  grand  simplicity,  its  wealth  of 
latent  harmony;  but  it  is  the  admiration  of  an  imposing 
iceberg,  not  of  an  Italian  landscape;  it  is  the  admiration 
of  a  Hercules,  not  of  a  Venus.  To  speak  technically, 
the  subject  of  a  fugue  is  a  contrapuntal  melody;  that  is, 
a  series  of  tones,  in  a  sense  melodically  coalescent,  but 
whose  pre-eminent  quality  is  its  adaptability  for  endless 
harmonizing.  This  quality,  which  is  the  most  essential 
feature  of  a  fugue  theme,  is  marvelously  lacking  in  what 
is  commonly  understood  as  a  melody.  The  usual  type  of 
melody,  even  in  the  case  of  those  that  are  most  beautiful, 
and  that  are  the  inspiration  of  the  highest  genius,  is 
wedded  almost  exclusively  to  one  harmonizing;  and 
however  great  the  resources  of  the  eminent  composers 
in  the  line  of  harmony,  they  have  very  seldom  attempted 
to  re-harmonize  their  great  arias.    This  union  of  the 

56 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


modern  type  of  melody  with  one  harmony  is  inevitable 
from  the  peculiar  character  of  the  melody.  The  modern 
melody  is  a  monogamist.  The  contrapuntal  melody  is  a 
polygamist,  and  this  states  the  inherent  difference  be- 
tween the  two  types.  Consequently,  it  is  only  by  pro- 
longed study  in  musical  theory  that  one  learns  to  ap- 
preciate the  significance,  the  capacity,  the  versatility,  of 
a  good  fugue  theme;  for  its  power  comes  from  its  un- 
limited adaptability  to  harmonic  substructures.  As  a 
simple  illustration,  suppose  a  fugue  theme  to  contain  in 
itself  the  three  following  tones: 


i 


This  would  not  appeal  to  any  one  as  a  "catching" 
phrase;  he  would  never  whistle  nor  sing  it;  but  as  in- 
troduced into  a  fugue  melody,  it  can  be  used  over  and 
over  again,  from  its  capacity  for  diverse  harmonizing, 
thus: 


i 


W=^ 


^^ 


w 


iS>- 


m 


'^    I    a 


m 


f 


6       I 


:i 


^^4 


^ 


I — r 


P^^f# 


57 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

The  foregoing  are  re-harmonizings  in  purely  funda- 
mental harmonies;  with  the  use  of  auxiliary  chords,  the 
variations  can  be  extended  indefinitely. 

The  theme,  being  first  given  out  in  one  voice  is,  at  Its 
conclusion,  taken  up  by  another  voice,  at  an  interval  of 
a  fifth  above,  or  a  fourth  below,  while  the  first  voice 
continues  in  the  form  of  an  accompaniment.  Then  the 
third  voice  takes  the  theme,  with  accompaniment  of  two 
voices,  and,  lastly,  the  subject  is  announced  by  the 
fourth  voice;  fugues  being  mostly  in  four  part  harmony. 
After  the  announcement  in  the  several  voices,  there  is 
a  sort  of  interlude  passage,  usually  founded  on  some 
portion  of  the  theme,  or  some  phrase  that  has  occurred 
in  one  of  the  accompanying  voices;  and  this  leads  into 
the  introduction  of  the  theme  again  in  the  first  voice, 
either  in  the  dominant  scale  or  some  closely  related  scale, 
succeeded  by  its  entrance  into  the  other  voices  suc- 
cessively. It  requires  great  skill  to  harmonize  the 
melody  when  it  is  thus  transferred  from  voice  to  voice, 
and  the  theme  that  admits  of  the  greatest  variety  of 
associated  harmonies  makes  the  best  fugue.  The  in- 
terludes afford  opportunity  for  great  variety;  and  to 
maintain  perfect  consistency  throughout,  with  a  proper 
balance  of  harmony,  and  the  light  and  shade  of  various 
major  and  minor  scales,  is  perhaps  the  most  serious  and 
laborious  problem  in  composition.  The  acme  of  diffi- 
culty is  reached  in  the  more  elaborate  forms  of  the 
fugue  that  contain  two,  three,  or  even  four  subjects  dis- 
tinctly contrasting  and  in  double  counterpoint. 

Proficiency  in  fugal  composition  is  of  the  greatest 
utility  in  the  less  severe  though  doubtless  more  at- 

58 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

tractive  forms  of  writing;  and  the  freedom  and  ap- 
parent ease  with  which  the  accomplished  composer 
handles  his  voices  and  develops  his  motives  in  symphony, 
sonata,  or  any  of  the  lighter  forms  of  music,  is  very 
largely  due  to  the  technical  training  to  which,  through 
a  course  of  years,  he  has  rigorously  and  patiently  sub- 
jected himself. 


59 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Should  the  Standard  of  Church  Music  be 
Lowered  to  Suit  a  Congregation' s  Taste? 

A  DIFFICULT  question;  from  time  immemorial 
an  unsolved  problem;  for  one  may  answer  it 
off-hand,  yes,  or  no,  and  he  will  seem  to  be 
partly  right  and  partly  wrong.  As  for  the  doctrine 
inculcated  in  the  preaching,  there  can  be  no  argu- 
ment; that  is  not  a  matter  of  taste.  The  preacher 
must  give  them  what  they  ought  to  hear,  and  not  ask 
what  they  want  to  hear.  But  the  music  is  not  an 
affair  of  ethics  nor  directly  of  religion;  it  is  religious 
art,  and  the  element  of  taste  properly  enters  into  it. 
The  audience  must  face  the  truth,  whether  palatable 
or  not;  but  must  they  be  forced  to  face  a  certain 
standard  of  art,  whether  they  will  or  no?  Can  one 
say,  if  their  taste  is  poor,  that  we  can  properly  compel 
them  to  hear  what  is  beyond  their  comprehension,  un- 
til they  rise  to  it? 

This  is  not  simply  an  interesting  question,  it  is  a  seri- 
ous one;  for  the  musical  service  is  a  prominent  feature 
of  public  worship,  and  the  acceptability  of  the  music 
measruably  determines  the  satisfaction  of  the  congre- 
gation, and  therefore  the  effectiveness  of  church  worship. 
Shall  the  audience  be  humored,  or  shall  they  be  held 
rigidly  to  a  line  of  art  which  it  would  be  well  for  them 
to  be  brought  into  sympathy  with,  and  which  would 
give  a  nobler  tone  to  the  entire  service? 

The  question  is  the  more  puzzling  from  the  fact  that 
every  audience  is  miscellaneous  in  its  taste,  that  each 

60 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

member  of  it  has  his  own  standard,  and  that  in  no 
solution  of  the  question  will  there  be  unanimity. 

Over  against  the  insistence  of  those  who  demand  that 
we  shall  not  fall  below  the  highest  ideals  in  order  to 
gratify  a  more  vulgar  taste,  and  that  the  noblest  and 
best  in  every  contributive  art  appealing  to  the  eye  or 
the  ear  should  adorn  the  sanctuary  worship,  it  is  main- 
tained that  the  church  service  can  not  properly  fill  the 
r61e  of  an  art-training  school,  but  that  on  each  Sabbath 
the  music  should  be  a  contributive  factor  to  the  spiritual 
helpfulness  of  the  entire  service.  If  it  be  above  their  com- 
prehension, does  it  not  fail  of  its  design,  and  become  an 
intrusion  and  sometimes  an  irritation,  rather  than  a  help? 
In  a  concert  one  is  free  to  go  or  stay  away,  according 
as  he  likes  the  program  or  the  artist.  But  without  that 
option  in  church  service,  should  that  which  is  repugnant 
be  forced  upon  him,  with  the  only  consolation,  that, 
if  he  endure  it  long  enough,  he  may  learn  to  like  it? 

The  foregoing  states,  we  believe,  fairly  well  the  main 
argument  on  each  side  of  the  question,  and  expresses 
the  dilemma  of  those  who,  on  the  supposition  of  a  wide 
diversity  of  taste,  according  to  the  degree  of  individual 
training,  feel  the  difficulties  of  the  situation,  and  the 
hopelessness  of  a  solution  of  the  problem.  It  may 
simplify  the  matter  somewhat  to  call  attention  to  facts 
that  bear  strongly  upon  the  point,  and  yet  are  gen- 
erally ignored  in  the  argument. 

It  is  commonly  assumed  that  those  who  feed  on  husks 
do  so  because  they  prefer  them.  But  it  is  often,  per- 
haps commonly,  because,  like  the  Prodigal  in  Scripture, 
they  cannot  get  anything  else !    Transport  a  fine  quartet 

6i 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

or  chorus  from  a  Fifth  Avenue  church  to  an  East  Side 
service,  and  what  would  the  audience  say?  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  if  the  choir  and  the  music  they  perform 
were  noble,  churchly  and  dignified,  the  very  offscouring 
of  the  Bowery  would  be  delighted.  Poverty  and  illiter- 
acy are  no  criterion  of  the  appreciation,  in  every  human 
heart,  of  the  universal  art  of  song.  Even  artistic  natures 
have  been  found  in  the  slums,  like  jewels  in  the  gutter, 
and  the  "common  herd"  are  as  quick  to  feel  the  magne- 
tism of  a  divine  singer,  as  are  the  world's  artists  and  im- 
presarios. One  of  this  class  has  for  years  heard  all  the 
applicants  for  choir  positions  in  my  church,  and  out  of 
twenty  singers  heard  in  succession  he  never  fails  to 
select  the  best  —  as  keen  a  critic  as  nine-tenths  of  the 
congregation.  I  would  say  ten-tenths,  except  that  it 
would  not  show  proper  deference  to  wealth  and  culture ! 
Even  a  music  committee,  proverbial  for  incompetency, 
and  often  having,  as  the  most  valuable  credential  for 
office,  either  wealth,  social  standing,  or  the  fact  of  hav- 
ing once  been  a  chorus  tenor  —  even  such  a  one  is 
usually  as  quick  to  recognize  a  superior  voice,  although 
inferior  to  even  the  average  organist,  in  judging  of  the 
other  necessary  qualifications  of  a  soloist  —  intonation, 
sense  of  rhythm,  ability  to  read,  temperament  and  har- 
monious personality  —  points  that  do  not  show  clearly 
in  a  prepared  solo,  and  the  lack  of  which  often  out- 
weighs a  beautiful  voice;  and  while  a  superiority  of 
voice  makes  such  an  instant  appeal  to  the  untrained 
listener,  he  is  by  no  means  so  insensible  as  is  often  sup- 
posed, if  endowed  with  any  musical  instinct,  to  the 
more  sterling  merit  of  the  higher  grades  of  composition. 

62 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

The  poor  in  this  world's  goods  get  the  cheapest  in  art, 
very  much  as  they  buy  inferior  food  and  raiment  — 
they  cannot  afford  better.  That  the  merits  of  fine 
authorship  appeal  to  the  "lower  classes"  as  strongly  as 
those  of  a  beautiful  voice,  or  that  they  adequately  ap- 
preciate the  latter  in  the  many  delicate  details  of  in- 
terpretation —  this  we  are  far  from  asserting.  One's 
taste  may  be  fine  in  substance,  but  crude  in  finish. 
Our  instinctive  cravings,  however,  are  cast  in  a  wonder- 
fully uniform  mould.  Our  classifications  of  humanity 
—  are  they  not,  after  all,  more  superficial  than  intrinsic? 
Do  we  not  differ  far  more  in  complexion  than  in  texture? 
The  laborer's  thought  of  a  grand  cathedral,  though  not 
of  so  broad  a  scope,  is  quite  akin  to  that  of  the  archi- 
tect's; he  is  deeply  though  vaguely  impressed.  In  all 
the  grades  of  human  life  there  is  something  deep  down 
that  responds  to  a  noble  sentiment  in  art,  whether  its 
expression  is  by  the  hands  of  a  Raphael,  or  a  Michael 
Angelo,  or  a  Beethoven.  The  "Angelus"  is  a  picture  of 
universal  plebian  reverence  for  all  that  is  high  and  holy, 
deeply  hidden  as  it  may  be  beneath  a  thick  crust  of 
illiteracy  and  vulgarity.  Threads  of  gold  run  through 
the  web  of  even  the  coarsest  natures.  Recent  attempts 
to  bring  the  works  of  the  master  composers  to  those 
whom  we  call  the  lower  classes  of  this  city  have  re- 
vealed an  unexpected  tide  of  feeling  for  the  best,  of 
longing  for  the  greatest;  and  they  justify  the  belief  that 
the  abounding  cheapness  in  musical  art,  sacred  and 
secular,  is  not  because  of  the  deficiency  of  a  finer  instinct, 
but  from  the  prevalence  of  unawakened  desires. 


63 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Preponderance  of  Concord  over  Discord  in 
Music 

JN  another  essay  we  attempt  to  explain  why  dis- 
cord is  at  all  admissible  in  music:  we  are  here 
considering  how  inconspicuously  it  is  wrought  into 
the  texture  of  good  composition. 

So  long  as  the  student  is  simply  writing  exercises  from 
a  figured  bass  in  the  use  of  ''fundamental  chords"  and 
of  the  first  class  of  auxiliary  chords,  known  as  "suspen- 
sion chords,"  his  task  is  only  to  assign  the  tones  of  the 
required  chords  to  the  proper  voices,  and  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  mixture  of  concord  and  discord  belongs  to 
the  one  who  has  written  the  figured  bass. 

But  when  he  comes  to  the  second  group  of  auxiliary 
chords,  having  passed  beyond  the  limits  of  figured 
basses,  he  has  reached  a  critical  period  of  his  work,  and 
needs  careful  instruction.  He  is  now  at  liberty  — 
within  reasonable  bounds  —  to  do  as  he  likes  in  the 
embellishing  of  his  simple,  skeleton  harmonies  by  tones 
utterly  foreign  to  those  chords,  which  mainly  produce 
discordance,  and  he  is  taking  his  first  steps  in  introduc- 
ing effects  quite  similar  to  those  in  actual  composition. 
He  is  now  in  a  position  to  be  pitied,  though  he  does 
not  realize  the  need  of  pity  —  he  is,  on  the  contrary, 
quite  exultant  over  the  freedom  that  is  suddenly  allowed 
him;  and,  as  if  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  he  simply 
runs  riot  among  the  discordant  possibilities  now  within 
his  reach,  and  will,  as  a  rule,  perpetrate  more  harsh 
and  unmusical  effects  in  a  single  exercise  than  Beetho- 

64 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

ven  would  produce  in  a  dozen  symphonies.  Indeed,  a 
master  of  the  art  never  produces  a  truly  harsh  effect: 
in  the  setting  of  a  strong  discord  he  puts,  so  to  speak, 
the  polished  side  outward.  The  only  way  to  stem  the 
tide,  and  keep  him  within  any  sort  of  bounds  is  to 
classify  the  auxiliary  effects  that  are  possible,  in  the 
way  that  has  been  adopted  in  ''A  Complete  System  of 
Harmony,"  showing  him  a  list  of  these  effects  gradu- 
ated according  to  their  degree  of  discordance  —  for  the 
auxiliary  chords  are  essentially  discordant,  although  the 
discordance,  when  it  is  rightly  used,  is  artfully  veiled 
by  the  happy  effect  they  produce.  It  must  be  under- 
stood that  the  euphony  of  music  is  in  the  fundamental 
chords,  and  the  virility  of  music  —  without  which  mere 
euphony  soon  becomes  characterless  —  is  chiefly  in  the 
discordances  that  are  mostly  produced  by  the  auxiliary 
chords.  Concord  and  discord  in  music  are  quite  com- 
parable to  vowel  and  consonant  in  articulate  speech; 
and  as  the  strength  of  a  word  is  in  its  consonants,  so 
the  strength  of  music  is  very  largely  in  its  discords. 

Even  the  "common  chord"  and  its  inversions  are  not 
absolutely  euphonious  —  the  fundamental  position  con- 
tains a  "fifth"  that  would  not  be  quite  acceptable  if 
not  partially  concealed  by  the  addition  of  the  third ;  and 
the  first  and  second  inversions  contain  a  "fourth"  that 
is  even  harsher  to  the  ear.  And  so  a  succession  of  the 
simplest  chords  does  not  afford  absolutely  undiluted 
euphony.  They  resemble  the  "liquid  consonants,"  half 
vowel,  half  consonant,  that  show  the  atmosphere  of 
Italy  rather  than  that  of  a  northerly  clime.  And  now 
the  task  of  the  pupil  is  —  to  state  it  in  a  word  —  to  in- 

65 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

fuse  a  pronounced  virility  into  his  chord  progressions, 
without  destroying  the  due  proportion  of  euphony  and 
discord  —  a  great  task,  requiring  long  experience  and 
an  ever  increasing  refinement  of  his  musical  sensibilities. 
His  first  efforts  are  an  utter  failure,  of  course.  He  seems 
insensible  to  the  crude  combinations.  There  is  motion 
for  the  sake  of  motion,  discord  for  the  sake  of  discord  — 
jargon  under  the  name  of  music.  The  root  of  the 
difficulty  is  in  the  inability  to  appreciate  the  normal 
proportion  of  euphony  and  discord.  He  thinks  that  be- 
•cause  discord  is  in  a  sense  the  most  striking  part  of  the 
harmony  it  must  be  made  the  most  prominent;  and  his 
•cultivation  will  be  in  the  direction  of  discovering  how  to 
infuse  the  foreign  and  discordant  element  into  the  con- 
tinuous current  of  euphonious  harmony;  permeating  it, 
so  as  to  be  felt  throughout,  yet  kept  in  the  background ; 
so  that  one*s  pleasure  in  concord  —  which  is  the  only 
thing  that  in  itself  is  pleasurable  —  shall  receive  no 
rude  shock  —  harmonious  yet  virile,  mellifluous  yet 
strong.  After  his  first  essays  in  the  art,  if  his  now 
awakening  sense  of  what  is  required  does  not  sufficiently 
control  his  first  unlicensed,  prodigal  use  of  discord,  he 
should  be  set  to  work  analyzing  the  harmonies  of  stand- 
ard composers,  where  he  will  be  amazed  to  find  what  an 
inconsiderable  part  of  the  harmonic  texture  is  discord- 
ant, how  large  a  part  of  what  is  discordant  is  the  unac- 
cented passing  tone,  the  least  obtrusive  of  all  dissonant 
effects.  After  deluging  his  exercises  with  an  unbearable 
amount  of  irritating  harmonies,  he  will  begin  to  smooth 
away  the  harsh  angles,  substitute  the  unaccented  for  the 
accented   auxiliary,   and   bring  out   the   euphony   into 

66 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

pleasurable  relief.  This  process  will  be  gradual,  the 
work  of  patient  study  and  years  of  application,  for  it 
reaches  forward  to  the  attainment  of  that  perfected 
harmony  in  which  the  two  elements  of  concord  and  dis- 
cord are  brought  into  ideal  relation  —  when  he  has 
learned  that  the  only  ground  for  permitting  discord  is, 
that  it  shall  enhance  the  effect  of  what  is  concordant, 
that  it  shall  make  euphony  more  euphonious. 

Music  is  not  permanently  pleasing,  unless  the  un- 
derlying concordant  harmonies  shine  clearly  through 
the  interweaving  of  the  several  voices.  Whatever  is 
composed  along  other  lines  may  be  the  fashion  of  an 
hour,  but  the  mind  wearies  of  it;  and  in  the  present 
spasm  of  taste  for  music  that  makes  discord  predomi- 
nate over  concord,  the  public  still  turns  constantly  for 
relief  to  the  serene  depths  of  those  classic  works  wherein 
the  masters  of  composition  have  followed  the  normal 
instincts  of  mind  and  heart. 

Spontaneous,  delightful  melody,  supported  by  strong 
yet  simple  harmonies  —  this  sort  of  composition  is  fast 
becoming  a  lost  art.  In  lieu  thereof,  and  to  gain  ad- 
miration, the  so-called  "advanced"  composer  is  resort- 
ing to  all  sorts  of  bizarre  effects,  startling  the  listener, 
rather  than  winning  him,  into  attention,  giving  him 
galvanic  shocks  of  brass  and  drums  and  strange  dis- 
cords that  excite  wonder,  but  leave  no  satisfying  mem- 
ories. Yet  amid  all  the  clamor  of  a  public  insatiable  for 
novelties,  Beethoven,  the  exponent  of  instrumental  song, 
serenely  maintains  his  foremost  place  in  the  modern 
program,  for  he  gives  what  the  heart  most  longs  for,  in 
genuine  flood   of   melody  and   nobly  sustaining   har- 

67 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

mony,  revealing  his  art-soul  through  the  characteristic 
message  of  every  string  and  pipe.  There  will  always  be 
an  abundance  of  curious,  entertaining  and  sensational 
composition,  of  distinctly  earthly  inspiration,  the  fashion 
of  the  hour;  but  only  the  music  that  in  some  measure 
seems  heaven-born  wins  enduring  admiration,  and 
echoes  through  the  mind  in  grateful,  loving  memory. 


68 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


m 


The  Constitution  of  an   Orchestra 

'ANKIND  is  very  much  in  love  with  himself: 
he  is  his  most  interesting  study:  he  regards 
himself  as  the  supreme  object  in  nature,  and 
ever  delights  in  projecting  his  personality  into  all  sur- 
rounding objects  wherever  he  can  detect  his  own 
moods  and  traits  more  or  less  clearly  mirrored.  The 
oak,  the  vine,  the  falling  leaf,  the  angry  sky,  the  rest- 
less billows — these  and  countless  other  details  of  the 
external  world,  make  a  peculiar  appeal  to  him  who 
finds  in  them  a  parallelism  to  his  own  life,  in  its 
strength,  its  frailty,  or  its  passions:  and  we  catch  these 
reflections  wherever  we  can:  it  is  thus  that  nature 
becomes  responsive. 

Possibly  it  is  from  a  desire  for  companionship  that 
we  thus  transform  the  things  around  us  into  half- 
images  of  ourselves,  but  it  is  assuredly  the  instinct  of 
all  thoughtful  minds.  Our  estimate  of  all  musical 
instruments,  also,  is  guaged  by  their  capacity  to  speak, 
in  the  subtlest  of  all  languages,  what  is  in  us,  to 
sound  in  our  ears  an  echo  of  our  hearts;  this  fact  will 
be  felt  as  we  analyze  the  various  factors  in  the  greatest 
instrumental  ensemble,  the  orchestra. 

Instrumentation  is  the  description  of  the  character 
and  function  of  these  several  instruments.  Although 
this  knowledge  is  of  practical  importance  chiefly  to  one 
who  aims  at  orchestral  composition,  it  cannot  fail  to 
interest  any  musician  whose  ambition  reaches  beyond 
the  narrow  scope  of  his  individual  instrument,  and  it 

69 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

will  make  somewhat  more  intelligible  any  performance 
wherein  a  large  number  of  instruments  are  involved,  as 
it  will  differentiate  the  total  and  complicated  effect  into 
its  distinct  and  diverse  details;  and  the  following  is  a 
brief  account,  free  from  technicality,  of  the  constitution 
of  an  orchestra,  and  of  the  most  essential  features  of  its 
several  instruments. 

A  full  orchestra  may  be  approximately  defined  as  the 
combination  of  three  very  distinct  groups  of  instruments, 
viz.,  the  stringed,  the  wood-wind,  and  the  brass  instru- 
ments. The  quality  of  tone  and  the  function  of  these 
three  sets  are  so  different  that  neither  set  can  do  the 
work  of  either  of  the  others,  and  hence  no  orchestra 
can  be  complete  without  the  ample  representation  of 
all  three  groups. 

It  may  further  be  said,  that  each  of  these  sets  com- 
prises a  quartet  of  instruments,  so  that  it  is  mainly  from 
twelve  instruments,  more  or  less  reduplicated  for  the 
sake  of  greater  power,  that  the  variety  in  tone-color  is 
derived.  A  brief  account  of  the  range,  tone-color  and 
individual  effectiveness  of  the  four  instruments  in  each 
of  the  three  sets  will  enable  one  better  to  understand  the 
possibilities  of  that  gigantic  instrumental  ensemble, 
unique  in  its  own  sphere,  and  a  formidable  rival  of  all 
that  is  possible  in  the  fullest  scope  of  vocal  art  —  the 
modern  orchestra. 

Among  the  three  distinct  sections  of  this  great  com- 
bination stands  foremost  the  group  of  stringed  instru- 
ments —  the  foundation  of  the  structure,  all  in  all  the 
most  serviceable,  though  not  appealing  to  the  ear  "by 
such  striking  and  sensational  effects  as  can  be  obtained 

70 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

from  other  parts  of  the  orchestra;  and  yet,  in  the  long 
run,  the  most  satisfying  of  all  the  sections,  with  a  quality 
of  tone  that  never  becomes  tiresome,  with  a  capacity  of 
sentiment  in  its  widest  range,  and  a  versatility  in  tech- 
nique, that  give  to  this  group  undisputed  supremacy  in 
instrumental  interpretation. 

The  Stringed  Section. 

Foremost  in  this  group  stands  the  violin,  ideally  the 
nearest  rival  of  the  human  voice.  This  instrument  has 
four  strings  tuned  to  G,  D,  A,  E. 


I     0     ^'*«*^'>«  a    n 


As  is  noted  In  the  illustration,  the  highest  string,  E, 
is  usually  called  the  first  string,  but  it  is  the  second 
string,  A,  which  is  first  tuned,  and  from  that  all  the 
others.  The  strings,  when  not  modified  by  placing  a 
finger  upon  them,  are  called  open  strings,  in  which  the 
tone  is  more  sonorous  than  that  which  is  produced  when 
the  string  is  pressed  by  a  finger,  and  accordingly  the 
lower  signatures,  leaving  more  of  the  strings  open  for 
the  production  of  tones,  are  more  favorable  for  the  in- 
strument than  the  higher  signatures.  For  producing 
certain  unusual  effects,  some  virtuosi  have  sometimes 
tuned  their  instrument  differently,  but  the  circum- 
stance is  so  rare  that  it  needs  only  passing  mention. 

The  range  of  the  violin  varies  with  the  skill  of  the 
performer,  the  precise  intonation  of  the  highest  tones 

71 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

being  beyond  the  ability  of  the  average  player.     For  the 
grade  of  orchestral  players  the  range  is  as  follows: 

With  all  the  semitones  -&-i2.  _ 


i 


-Tg^- 


^^^^ 


For  perfect  intonation  the  highest  must,  of  course,  be 
approached  gradually,  as  the  slightest  displacement  of 
the  finger  would  be  noticeable.  The  greatest  performers 
can  exceed  this  range  by  several  tones. 

Throughout  this  range  of  three  and  a  half  octaves  the 
trill  is  possible,  though  hazardous  in  the  highest  notes. 

Only  two  tones  can  be  held  simultaneously,  as  the 
strings  do  not  all  lie  in  one  plane;  but  if  taken  in  arpeg- 
gio form,  three  or  four  can  be  played,  a  practise  that  is 
limited  to  loud  effects.  Throughout  the  range  double 
notes  can  be  played,  but  with  increasing  difficulty  above 
the  staff.  Anyone  who  examines  orchestral  scores  will 
often  see  the  word  divisi  on  one  or  more  of  the  staves 
occupied  by  the  violin  part.  This  is  where,  for  the  ful- 
ness of  the  harmony,  three  or  four  simultaneous  notes 
occur,  and  different  violinists  take  different  notes,  so  as 
to  maintain  them  all.  This  is  also  necessary  in  the 
case  of  double  notes  occurring  between  the  fourth  and 
third  strings,  as  they  can  only  be  produced  on  the 
lowest  string: 


i 


72 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Remarkable  effects  are  produced  by  the  use  of  tremolo, 
through  the  rapid  drawing  of  the  bow  back  and  forth  on 
the  string.  This  will  express  a  variety  of  sentiment,  ac- 
cording to  the  loudness  and  the  location  of  the  tremolo 
in  the  range  of  the  instrument.  There  is  no  instru- 
ment capable  of  producing  such  a  sense  of  terror,  agi- 
tation, or  a  wild  and  stormy  sentiment  as  a  mass  of 
violins  in  tremolo. 

A  peculiar  effect  is  produced  by  drawing  the  bow 
across  the  string  when  it  is  lightly  touched,  without 
pressing  it  toward  the  fingerboard,  which  produces  a 
higher  octave.  It  is  to  the  violin  very  much  what  falsetto 
is  to  the  voice,  and  the  extremely  high  tones  heard  in 
a  violin  performance  are  often  produced  in  this  way. 

The  quality  of  the  tone  is  peculiarly  softened  and 
muffled  by  the  use  of  the  sordine  or  mute,  a  little  wooden 
implement  placed  on  the  strings  at  the  bridge.  This 
effect  is  most  advantageous  in  slow  and  soft  effects. 

And  lastly,  the  attentive  listener  cannot  have  failed 
to  notice  the  peculiar  effect  of  pulling  the  string,  instead 
of  using  the  bow,  called  pizzicato;  a  staccato  effect  that 
perceptibly  alters  the  quality  of  the  tone,  very  effective 
in  short  passages,  and  at  times  when  the  harmony  is 
sustained  by  other  instruments. 

The  Viola. 

This  closely  resembles  the  violin,  but  its  four  strings 
are  tuned  a  fifth  lower; 


^^ 


73 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


its  range  is  about  three  octaves: 

With  all  the  semitones 


i^^^^^^-^^^ 


.^  ^^ 


The  technique  of  this  instrument  is  the  same  as  that 
of  the  violin.  In  the  string  quartet  it  plays  the  part  of 
the  tenor,  the  alto  part  being  taken  by  the  second 
■\dolin.  The  viola  part  is  always  written  on  the  alto 
clef,  a  familiarity  with  which  is  necessary  for  any  one 
who  would  read  orchestral  scores  or  string  quartets. 
As  compared  with  the  location  of  notes  on  the  soprano 
clef  —  which,  by  the  way,  is  really  the  violin  clef,  but 
now  used  in  vocal  music  —  the  following  shows  how  the 
same  tone  would  be  indicated  in  the  two  clefs. 

Identical 


XT      Z^      ft? 


The  viola  is  inferior  to  the  violin  in  the  quality  of  its 
tone,  although  the  quality  is  such  as  lends  itself  with 
especial  effect  to  a  mournful  mood.  It  is  held  in  some 
disparagement,  and,  in  the  opinion  of  Hector  Berlioz, ' 
the  great  authority  on  the  subject,  this  disparagement  is 
not  well  founded.  He  mentions  some  reasons  for  its 
rather  poor  reputation,  and  the  reasons  are  sufficiently 
interesting  to  be  quoted.  Berlioz  says,  "Of  all  the  in- 
struments in  the^  orchestra,  the  one  whose  excellent, 
qualities  have  been  longest  unappreciated  is  the  viola. 
It  is  no  less  agile  than  the  violin,  the  sound  of  its  strings 
is  peculiarly  telling,  its  upper  notes  are  distinguished  by 

74 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

their  mournfully  passionate  accent,  and  its  quality  of 
tone,  altogether,  of  a  profound  melancholy,  differs  from 
that  of  other  instruments  played  with  the  bow.  It  has, 
nevertheless,  been  long  neglected,  or  put  to  a  use  as  un- 
important as  ineffectual  —  that  of  merely  doubling,  in 
octave,  the  upper  part  of  the  bass.  There  are  many 
causes  that  have  operated  to  induce  the  unjust  servitude 
of  this  noble  instrument.  In  the  first  place,  the  ma- 
jority of  composers  of  the  last  century"  —  the  i8th  — 
"rarely  writing  four  real  parts,  scarcely  knew  what  to 
do  with  it,  and  when  they  did  not  readily  find  some 
filling-up  notes  in  the  chords  for  it  to  do,  they  hastily 
wrote  the  fatal  col  Basso  —  with  the  bass  —  sometimes 
with  so  much  inattention  that  it  produced  a  doubling 
in  the  octave  of  the  basses,  irreconcilable  with  either 
the  harmony  or  the  melody,  or  with  both  one  and  the 
other.  Moreover,  it  was  unfortunately  impossible,  at 
that  time,  to  write  anything  for  the  viola  of  a  promi- 
nent character,  requring  even  ordinary  skill  in  execution. 
Viola  players  were  always  taken  from  among  the  refuse 
of  the  violinists.  When  a  musician  found  himself  in- 
capable of  creditably  filling  the  place  of  violinist,  he 
took  refuge  among  the  violas.  Hence  it  arose  that  the 
viola  performers  knew  neither  how  to  play  the  violin 
nor  the  viola.  It  must  even  be  admitted  that  at  the 
present  time  this  prejudice  against  the  viola  part  is  not 
altogether  destroyed,  and  that  there  are  still,  in  the  best 
orchestras,  many  viola  players  who  are  not  more  profi- 
cient on  that  instrument  than  on  the  violin.  But  the 
mischief  resulting  from  this  forbearance  toward  them  is 
daily  becoming  more  felt  and  little  by  little  the  viola 

75 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

will,  like  other  instruments,  be  confided  only  to  compe- 
tent hands.  Its  quality  of  tone  so  strongly  attracts  and 
captivates  the  attention  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  have 
in  the  orchestra  quite  as  many  violas  as  second  violins; 
and  the  expressive  powers  of  this  quality  of  tone  are  so 
marked,  that,  in  the  rare  occasions  when  the  old  mas- 
ters afforded  its  display,  it  never  failed  to  fulfill  their 
intention.'* 

This  eulogy,  from  a  master  in  instrumentation  and 
orchestration,  cannot  fail  to  arouse  a  higher  respect  for 
an  instrument  which,  to  this  day,  is  spoken  of  with  a 
distinct  tone  of  disparagement.  But  notwithstanding 
its  peculiar  and  effective  quality  in  certain  uses,  its 
limitations  will  probably  always  forbid  its  being  ranked 
in  the  same  class  as  the  violin  and  'cello. 

Having  considered  the  two  instruments  that  take  the 
part  of  soprano,  alto  and  tenor,  in  the  string  quartet,  we 
come  to  the  one  that  fulfills  the  function  of  bass  in  the 
group;  namely, 

The  Violoncello. 

This  universally  admired  instrument,  filling  a  province 
so  distinct  from  that  of  the  violin,  is  a  close  rival  of  its 
soprano  congener,  by  many  preferred  to  it,  and:  with  its 
vein  of  masculine  yet  tender  seriousness,  the  noble  and 
indispensable  companion  of  its  more  airy  and  ethereal 
sister. 


This    instrument,    like    the    two    fore-    ~^'      ^. 
going,  has  also  four  strings,  turned  in  fifths:  jgL 

76 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC 

-LAND 

Its  compass,  even  for  the  grade 
is  three  and  one-half  octaves : 

of  orchestral  players, 

-^: 

-rr^ &- 

^    - 

_^^ _     ^j    ^ : 

tn      '^      '^ 

^    a    ^ 

n 

^         <n          ^ 

y 

S)          €?      •  •^■•'         ■  ] 

1 

f(T\                                    ^            ^D           f^         ^                                                                              1 

LM_^^ — ^ — ^ — "^ 1 

The  highest  of  these  tones  are  hazardous  to  take,  and 
must  be  approached  gradually  and  slowly.  But,  as  a 
rule,  the  tones  in  the  highest  part  of  the  range  are  not 
produced  in  the  usual  way,  but  as  "harmonics"  —  as 
already  described  in  the  violin  —  resulting  in  tones  that 
are  both  easier  to  produce  and  of  better  quality. 

Owing  to  the  extent  of  its  range,  its  higher  notes  can- 
not be  written  on  the  bass  clef,  but  are  placed  on  either 
the  old  tenor  clef: 

Identical      to  this 

^ « a — i^ 


i 


25, (^ 

or,  when  too  high  for  the  tenor  clef,  they  are  written  on 
the  violin  or  soprano  clef. 

It  thus  becomes  necessary  for  one  who  would  read 
orchestral  scores  or  string  quartets  to  familiarize  himself 
with  both  the  alto  and  the  tenor  clefs. 

The  technique  of  the  'cello  is  essentially  the  same  as 
of  the  violin  and  viola,  and  trills,  arpeggios,  etc.,  are 
perfectly  feasible.  But  the  distances,  being  greater 
from  point  to  point,  in  the  playing  of  the  scale,  require 

77 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 

such  a  spread  of  the  fingers  that  passages  in  double 
notes  at  an  interval  of  a  tenth,  which  are  possible  on 
the  violin,  are  impracticable  on  the  'cello.  With  its 
quality  of  tone  and  thickness  of  strings,  it  does  not  lend 
itself  congenially  to  the  brilliancy  and  airy  flights  of 
the  violin,  and  by  its  own  nature  it  is  limited,  for  its  best 
effects,  to  that  style  of  composition  that  the  musician 
calls  sostenuto  and  cantahile.  Tremolo,  pizzicato  and  the 
sordine  are  no  less  effective  on  the  'cello  than  on  the 
violin,  but  as  regard  pizzicato,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  it 
is  in  all  instruments  much  more  pleasing  in  the  lower 
and  middle  part  of  the  range  than  in  the  higher  notes, 
where  the  effect  is  too  sharp  and  woodeny. 

We  have  thus  given  a  brief  description  of  the  three 
instruments  that  fulfill  the  function  of  the  string  quar- 
tet, but  there  remains  a  fourth  of  great  importance, 

The  Contra-bass  or  Double-bass 

which  is,  to  the  orchestra,  what  the  i6-ft.  stop  is  to  the 
organ  —  giving  that  deep,  majestic  undertone  that  can 
alone  represent  the  foundation  of  the  orchestral  super- 
structure. 

Of  this  instrument  there  are  two  kinds:  one  with  three 
strings,  tuned  in  fifths;  the  other  with  four  strings, 
tuned  in  fourths: 


^ 


-^L 


The  sound  in  both  is  an  octave  lower  than  written, 
with  a  compass  of  a  little  over  two  octaves.    The  range 

78 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

of  the  four-stringed  instrument  is  as  follows,  with  all  the 
semitones : 


C\' 

J    ^    ^                                                          II 

•^. 

^    e>    ^                                                                          II 

^                               ^    <^    ^                                                                               11 

^  ^   g    "-^   ^ U 

For  the  most  part,  this  instrument,  when  in  use,  plays 
the  same  notes  as  the  'cello,  with,  of  course,  the  octave 
effect;  but  not  infrequently  it  plays  a  simplified  *cello 
part,  as  in  the  case  of  rapidly  reiterated  notes,  which  it 
would  be  cumbersome  for  the  double-bass  to  execute; 
in  very  soft  effects  of  strings,  this  instrument  may  often 
be  omitted  altogether,  and  certainly  its  effectiveness  is 
enhanced  by  not  keeping  it  in  constant  use.  Owing  to 
the  great  spread  of  the  fingers,  in  strings  of  such  length, 
a  rapid  succession  of  notes,  which  would  be  feasible  for 
the  *cello,  is  not  only  impossible,  but  unsuited  to  the 
dignity  of  this  ponderous  instrument;  but  a  striking 
effect  is  produced  by  playing  a  short  series  of  grace 
notes  like  the  following,  which  is  done  by  simply  sliding 
the  finger  along  the  string,  with  no  attempt  to  give  in- 
dividual intonation  to  the  several  tones: 


-f^^ 


rr^  Tfr^  rr-^ 


^ 


This  example  is  quoted  from  an  opera  by  Gluck  to 
illustrate   the   harking  of   Cerberus.     In   the   Pastoral 

79 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Symphony,  Beethoven  uses  the  same  device  in  depicting 
the  storm.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  on  several  occasions, 
Beethoven  has  used  notes  lower  than  the  instruments  of 
to-day  can  execute,  extending  the  scale  down  to  C, 
while  the  present  limit  is  E.  Whether  he  had  instru- 
ments regularly  tuned  to  reach  so  low,  or  whether  his 
instrument  was  like  that  of  the  present  day,  and  es- 
pecially tuned  for  certain  passages,  can  not  now  be 
determined.  The  pizzicato  and  tremolo  are  no  less 
serviceable  on  his  instrument  than  on  the  violin  and 
'cello,  but  the  sordine  is  of  far  less  worth.  Virtuosi 
occasionally  introduce  this  instrument  in  solo;  but 
while  such  a  use  of  it  may  redound  to  the  glory  of 
the  player  for  his  phenomenal  dexterity,  it  adds  noth- 
ing to  the  credit  of  the  instrument  to  make  it  play  a 
r6le  for  which  by  nature  it  is  totally  unsuited. 

The  Wood-wind  Section. 

With  this  brief  account  of  the  four  stringed  instru- 
ments of  the  orchestra,  we  pass  on  to  the  second  section, 
where  we  also  find  a  quartet  of  wood-wind  instruments, 
indispensable  for  their  coloring,  and  each  of  them 
possessed  of  special  and  beautiful  characteristics.  No 
invidious  comparisons  are  legitimate  between  this 
group  and  the  one  we  have  just  described.  Each  in- 
strument has  its  own  nature  and  province,  and  the 
orchestra  would  be  impoverished  by  the  loss  of  any  one 
of  them. 

In  the  wood- wind  group  we  find  the  flute,  the  oboe, 
the  clarinet,  and  the  fagott  or  bassoon. 

80 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

The  Flute. 

This  is,  in  a  sense,  the  child  in  the  orchestra; 
it  has  a  peculiarly  bright,  light-hearted  disposi- 
tion, not  serious,  yet  not  flippant,  just  as  a 
child  is  not  serious  nor  flippant,  for  it  takes 
maturity  to  be  either.  It  is  the  fringe  of  a 
merry  smile  that  the  flute  gives  to  the  har- 
mony of  undertones,  like  a  ray  of  sunlight 
on  the  printed  page.  As  Berlioz  remarks: 
*'The  quality  of  tone  of  the  medium,  and  of 
that  of  the  high  portion,  has  not  a  very  special 
or  decided  expression."  Not  having,  in  the 
main,  a  very  pronounced  characteristic,  save 
that  of  brilliancy,  it  can  be  used  with  more 
freedom  than  other  instruments  of  its  class,  in 
association  with  various  moods,  amplifying  the 
harmony,  without  especially  modifying  the  sen- 
timent that  is  being  expressed.  In  the  hands 
of  a  master,  it  may,  indeed,  show  more  versa- 
tility, and  be  used,  as  has  been  done  by  Gluck, 
to  convey  even  a  sad  humor;  but,  in  general, 
it  has  very  limited  powers  of  expression.  Its 
facility  in  rapid  and  graceful  execution  gives 
it,  however,  a  distinct  and  valuable  place  in  the 
orchestra,  and  its  tone-color  makes  it  often  in- 
dispensable, sometimes  in  isolated  solo  pas- 
sages, sometimes  to  reduplicate  other  wind  or 
stringed  instruments  an  octave  above.  a 

Thanks  to  the  inventions  of  Boehm,  whose    rittbrs- 
flutes  are  now  considered  the  standard  make,      flutb 

8i 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

the  intonation  is  very  accurate,  and  the  range  slightly 
increased,  which  is  given  below,  and  comprises  three 
octaves:  though  the  very  lowest  tones  are  seldom  ad- 
visable, and  the  two  highest  cannot  be  sustained  pianis' 
simo. 

.yo.  .^2.  ^1  __: 


i 


-A 


sr^ 


=^^^^ 


The  trill  is  feasible  throughout  the  range,  and  the  in- 
strument is  capable  of  an  agility  in  chromatic  passages, 
in  arpeggios,  and  in  rapidly  reiterated  notes  that  sur- 
passes that  of  all  other  wind  instruments,  and  easily 
makes  it  a  favorite  with  those  who  are  most  in  favor  of 
its  peculiar  genius. 

In  this  connection,  a  word  may  be  said  concerning 
the  piccolo  flute,  or  piccolo,  which  is  a  flute  whose  pitch 
is  an  octave  higher  than  the  one  here  described.  With 
its  low  notes  feeble  and  its  highest  ones  shrill,  it  must 
be  used  with  great  discretion  and  only  incidentally. 


The  Oboe. 

The  oboe,  clarinet  and  bassoon  —  the  remaining  mem- 
bers of  the  wood-wind  group  —  are  distinguished  from 
the  flute  by  being  reed  instruments,  wherein  the  vibra- 
tion of  a  reed  at  the  mouthpiece  gives  a  peculiar  color- 
ing to  the  tone.    The  quality  of  the  tone  in  the  oboe  is 

82 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

what  Berloiz  aptly  calls  "acid  sweet." 
There  is  an  atmosphere  of  tender  melan- 
choly inherent  in  this  tone,  which  fits  it 
marvelously  well  for  graceful  cantabile.  It 
can  even  be  made  to  take  on  a  playful 
and  joyous  humor,  —  almost  like  one  smiling 
through  his  tears  —  as  it  has  done  in  the 
hands  of  Beethoven;  but  as  this  is  naturally 
associated  with  a  quick  and  sprightly  move- 
ment, it  must  not  be  pushed  in  this  direction 
too  far,  for  its  execution  is  not  fluent,  and  its 
tones  do  not  glide  into  one  another  as  they 
do  in  the  flute  and  the  clarinet.  An  air  of 
reminiscence  is  associated  with  the  oboe,  and 
this  usually  means  a  touch  of  sadness.  Vir- 
tuosi may  do  wonderful  feats  upon  this  instru- 
ment, but  they  cannot  conceal  its  inherent 
nature,  and  their  greatest  successes  in  brilliant 
exploitation  will  be  artistic  —  or  inartistic  — 
travesties. 

The  range  of  the  oboe  is  a  little  over  two 
octaves,  as  shown  below:  but  the  very  high- 
est tones  are  hazardous. 


mi 


ISZ^ 


A^    g*     ^ 


•&--GL. 


o  gg- 


-zr-&- 


H 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

The  trill  is  not  particulariy  suited  to  this  instrument, 
though  often  used.  The  chromatic  tones  are  produced 
with  some  difficulty,  and  there  are  many  which  are 
absolutely  impossible,  and  still  others  that  are  not 
feasible.  In  large  tone-masses,  this  instrument,  like  all 
others,  need  not  be  kept  so  scrupulously 
within  the  limits  of  its  special  genius;  but 
where  its  individuality  can  assert  itself,  it 
is  not  well  to  extend  its  compass  below  G,  or 
above  its  highest  E,  and  it  is  most  successful 
in  keys  of  low  signature. 

Somewhat  allied  to  the  oboe,  but  with 
much  larger  range,  of  distinct  tone-color, 
much  more  versatile  in  mood,  and  more 
fluent  injexecution,  is 


The  Clarinet. 

While  there  is  but  one  oboe,  that  in  C, 
whose  natural  scale  accords  with  that  of  the 
piano,  there  are  four  clarinets,  in  different 
scales,  C,  B-flat,  A  and  E-flat,  so  that  at  the 
beginning  of  an  orchestral  score  the  kind  of 
clarinet  is  indicated. 

There  is  a  double  advantage  in  this  variety 
of  clarinets;  the  tone-color  is  somewhat  differ- 
ent in  eaqh;  those  in  the  higher  keys  are  more 
brilliant  or  piercing,  those  in  the  lower  keys 
more  mellow;  but  the  chief  advantage  is  in 
CLARfNYx  giving  more  facility  in  execution.     The  natural 

84 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

scale  in  all  orchestral  instruments,  i.e.,  the  scale 
requiring  no  sharps  or  flats,  is  the  easiest  to  play,  and 
affords  the  best  quality  of  tone;  consequently,  by 
choosing  the  clarinet  whose  natural  scale  lies  as  far  on 
one  side  of  the  C  scale  as  the  scale  of  the  composition 
lies  on  the  other  side,  the  part  for  this  instrument  can 
be  written  in  the  scale  of  C.  As  the  natural  scalie  of  the 
B-flat  clarinet  has  a  pitch  one  whole  tone  lower  than 
the  normal  C  scale,  its  scale  of  F  thereon  will  be  iden- 
tical to  the  scale  of  E-flat  on  the  piano;  and  if  the  com- 
position is  in  the  key  of  E-flat,  the  part  for  this  clarinet 
will  be  written  in  F,  with  a  signature  of  only  one  flat; 
or  if  the  piece  be  in  A-flat,  this  clarinet  will  be  written 
in  B-flat.  Again,  the  A  clarinet  has  its  natural  scale  a 
minor  third  below  the  normal  C  scale;  hence,  if  the  com- 
position is  in  E,  the  part  for  the  A  clarinet  will  be  in  the 
much  simpler  scale  of  G;  and  if  the  piece  be  in  A,  this 
clarinet  will  play  in  its  C  scale.  Again,  if  the  piece  be 
in  E-flat,  the  E-flat  clarinet  would  play  in  the  C  scale. 
Thus  we  could  play  a  part  that  is  to  sound  in  E-flat  by 
using  either  an  E-flat  clarinet  playing  in  its  C  scale,  or  a 
B-flat  clarinet  playing  in  its  own  F  scale;  but  the  latter 
is  preferable;  for,  as  before  stated,  those  clarinets  whose 
natural  scale  is  below  C  are  more  satisfactory  than  the 
C  or  E-flat  instruments.  When  the  key  of  the  compo- 
sition changes,  a  change  in  the  clarinet  is  often  indicated ; 
otherwise  the  instrument  might  be  obliged  to  play  in  a 
very  difficult  signature.  The  reading  of  the  clarinet,  as 
of  some  other  instruments,  in  a  different  key  from  that 
of  the  composition,  is  one  of  the  difficulties  in  orchestral 
writing,  and  in  reading  the  score. 

8s 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

The  range  of  the  clarinet  is  fully  three  octaves  and  a 
half; 


XT IZT 


with  the  semitones 


This  is  divided  into  four  registers; 

3rd 

2d 


4th 


ff5> as"- 


The  first  and  third  are  the  most  satisfactory,  the  four 
tones  in  the  second  are  usually  dull,  and  the  highest 
register  is  shrill,  the  extreme  notes  being  difficult  and 
hazardous.  Throughout  its  range  it  admits  of  a  large 
number  of  trills,  major  and  minor,  with  an  intermixture 
of  many  that  are  difficult. 

To  use  the  expression  of  Berlioz,  "It  is  the  one  of  all 
the  wind  instruments  which  can  best  breathe  forth, 
swell,  diminish  and  die  away  its  sound.  Thence  the 
precious  faculty  of  producing  distance,  echo,  an  echo  of 
echo,  and  a  twilight  sound."  Its  quality  is  veiled,  as 
compared  with  the  oboe;  noble,  tender;  manly,  yet 
delicate;  serious,  but  not  gloomy. 

86 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


The  Bassoon. 

The  bass,  in  the  quartet  of  wood-wind  instruments,  is 
afforded  by  the  bassoon,  which  has  the  tone-color  of  the 
oboe  —  in  reality  its  lower  extension.  With  a  range  of 
over  three  octaves,  it  must  be  written  in  two  clefs : 


i 


A 

Modern 
Bassoon 


but  the  highest  tones  are  hardly  serviceable.     It 

is  subject  to  the  limitations  of  its  ally,  the  oboe, 
and,  with  many  impossible  trills  at  the  two 
extremes  of  its  range,  the  possible  ones  are 
often  grotesque.  Like  the  oboe,  it  is  not 
a   transposing    instrument,   and   its  best 

scales  are  those  whose  signat.ures  do  not  exceed 

three  sharps  and  three  flats. 

The  Brass-wind  Section. 

We  now  come  to  what  we  may,  with  some 
license,  call  the  quartet  of  brass-wind  instruments, 
though  it  contains  but  three  types  of  instruments, 
trumpet,  French  horn  and  trombone. 

In  this  brief  account,  it  will  suffice  to  say 
that  the  trumpet  is 
practically  superseded 
by  the  cornet,  which 
plays  the  part  assigned 
to     the    trumpet     in 


A  Modern  Besson  Cornet 


87 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

orchestral  scores.  Formerly,  the  part  assigned  to  the 
trumpet  was  very  simple,  as  one  will  see  by  examining 
the  scores  of  the  older  writers,  owing  to  the  great  limi- 
tations of  that  instrument.  But  the  cornet,  whose  tone 
is  so  good  a  substitute  for  that  of  the  trumpet,  has  in 
late  years  been  so  improved  in  its  mechanism  that  the 
''trumpet  part"  can  now  be  scored  much  more  elabo- 
rately than  formerly.  Cornets  in  different  keys,  like 
clarinets,  were  once  in  vogue  far  more  than  at  present, 
but  they  are  now  brought  to  such  perfection  by  their 
pistons  that  they  are  practically  non-transposing  instru- 
ments, though  the  Bb  cornet  is  commonly  used.  The 
range  is  about  as  follows,  with  the  semitones: 


i 


The  brass  instrument  of  the  most  delicious  quality  in 
the  orchestra  is  the  French  horn.  Formerly  a  transpos- 
ing instrument,  like  the  clarinet,  it  was  in  different  keys, 
but  its  mechanism  has  been  improved, 
like  that  of  the  comet,  so  that  it  can 
adapt  itself  to  all  scales,  though  the 
F  horn  is  usually  employed.  Being, 
like  the  cornet,  in   its  orchestral  use 

A  Modern  French  ,  ,  -  .  , .,  ^  •• 

Horn  vcry  largely  a  harmonic  rather  than  a 

melodic  instrument,  its  best  mode  of  use  can  be  learned 
most  easily  by  studying  scores,  rather  than  from  verbal 
directions.  In  its  present  perfection  it  can  render  a 
simple  melody  very  effectively. 

88 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


The  trombones,  which  afford  the  most  majes- 
tic and  resonant  element  of  color  and  strength 
in  the  orchestra,  were  formerly  of  four  kinds  — 
soprano,  alto,  tenor  and  bass;  but  only  the 
tenor  is  in  general  use.  The  earlier  writers 
did  not  use  this  instrument  with  the  frequency 
of  the  later  ones,  and  Berlioz  remarks  that  in 
his  day  the  tenor  trombone  was  practically  the 
only  one  used  in  French  orchestras. 

The  slide,  which  the  instrument  possesses, 
enables  the  player  to  vary  instantly  the  length 
of  the  tube,  and  thus  to  produce  all  the  semi- 
tones, so  that  this  instrument  can  adapt  itself 
to  all  scales.  The  best  compass  of  the  three 
instruments  is  given  below. 

The  alto  has  its  part  written  on  the  true 
alto  clef,  like  the  viola,  and  the  tenor  is  writ- 
ten on  the  old  tenor  clef,  or  on  the  bass  clef. 

Of  the  three,  the  tenor  is  much  the  best,  with 

a  quality  of  tone  superior  to  that  of  the  alto 

and   more    capable    of    rapid   execution   than 

the  ponderous  bass,  whose  use  is  too  fatiguing 

Alto  ^ a. 


y^ — bg 


^— ^ 


er — z? 


Tenor 


^ 


:zL 


;2i 


•iSh 

Bass 


t:^ 


i 


89 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

for  most  players,  so  that  long  pauses  must  be  inter- 
spersed in  its  part.  At  the  present  time,  when  three- 
part  harmony  is  required  from  this  instrument,  it  is 
usually  played  by  three  tenor  trombones. 

Cornets  and  horns  are  regularly  used  in  pairs,  form- 
ing a  brass  quartet,  whereas  the  employment  of  trom- 
bones is  variable. 

In  this  brief  summary  of  the  distinctive  characters  of 
the  chief  orchestral  instruments,  a  word  must  be  added 
regarding  two  that  are  quite  outside  the  foregoing 
category,  namely, 


The  Kettle-drums  and  the  Harp. 

The  kettle-drum  is  the  only  instrument  of  percussion 
that  holds  a  permanent  place  in  the  modern  orchestra, 
being  distinguished  from  all  other  drums  in  having  a 
distinct  intonation,  and  therefore  more  intrinsically 
musical  than  all  others  of  its  class.  As  a  rule,  an  or- 
chestra has  two  or  three,  but  for  special  effects,  more  are 
sometimes  added.  Berlioz,  in  his  work  upon  Instru- 
mentation, quotes  a  passage  from  his  Requiem  in  which 
he  used  eight  pairs  of  drums,  at  one  point  six  drums  being 
used  simultaneously.  Where  there  are  but  two,  they 
are  tuned  usually  to  the  key-note  and  the  fifth;  but  as 
there  are  long  pauses,  the  drummer  has  time,  when  the 
key  changes,  to  fune  them  to  the  new  key. 

The  effect  of  these  instruments  is  to  give  an  atmos- 
phere^ a  resplendence  J  rather  than  to  increase  the  volume 
of  musical  tone;   suffusing  the  whole  orchestra  with  a 

90 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

new  color  which  could  not  be  secured  by  any  instru- 
ment that  localizes  itself  by  a  more  distinct  intonation. 

A  brilliant,  ethereal  and  picturesque  adjunct  of  the 
orchestra  is  the  harp,  whose  tone-color  most  beautifully 
differentiates  it  from  all  other  instruments,  giving  a  dis- 
tinctive glow  of  color  to  the  entire  aggregation,  and  at 
the  same  time  contributing  an  important  melodic  and 
harmonic  element.    The  range  of  the  harp  is: 


J2- 


•:&- 


i 


-TS- 


It  has  seven  pedals,  each  affecting  all  the  strings  of 
one  letter  throughout  the  range.  Each  of  these  pedals 
has  three  positions;  with  all  of  them  in  their  middle 
position,  the  instrument  is  tuned  to  the  key  of  C.  Raise 
a  pedal  to  its  highest  notch,  and  it  flats  the  corresponding 
strings.  Depress  a  pedal  to  its  lowest  notch,  and  it 
sharps  the  corresponding  strings.  Have  all  the  pedals  in 
the  middle  notch,  and  then  depress  the  F  pedal,  which 
sharps  every  F,  and  the  harp  is  in  the  key  of  G:  or 
raise  the  B  pedal,  which  flats  every  B,  and  it  is  in  the 
key  of  F.  One  of  the  most  difficult  things  in  the 
technique  of  this  instrument  is  the  manipulation  of  the 
pedals,  to  provide  for  all  accidentals  and  changes  of  key. 
As  its  name  signifies  —  from  the  Greek  arpa^  meaning 
arpeggio  —  its  music  is  predominantly  of  this  sort,  but 
it  is  capable  also  of  beautiful  melodic  effects  supported 

91 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

by  arpeggio  accompaniment,  which  render  it  a  superb 
solo  instrument,  as  well  as  an  enchanting  feature  in  a 
full  orchestra. 

We  have  thus  passed  in  hasty  review  the  chief  char- 
acteristics of  the  most  important  orchestral  instru- 
ments. There  are  many  others  which  we  have  not 
named  that  are  occasionally  called  into  requisition  for 
the  more  unusual  effects.  Some  of  these  are  of  the  same 
quality  as  those  herein  described,  such  as  the  double 
bassoon,  an  octave  below  the  ordinary  instrument,  and 
other  clarinets  of  lower  range  than  the  usual  ones. 
There  are,  besides,  other  brass  instruments,  and  instru- 
ments of  percussion,  like  the  long  drum,  cymbals, 
triangles,  etc.,  but  their  use  is  too  incidental  to  warrant 
the  incorporation  of  such  instruments  in  the  permanent 
organization  of  an  orchestra,  and  their  description  would 
be  of  little  or  no  interest  to  the  general  reader.  A 
source  of  great  enjoyment  is  in  store  for  all  who  will 
pursue  the  study  both  of  individual  instruments,  and  of 
their  concerted  effects,  which  can  be  done  to  a  consider- 
able degree  by  following  the  score  of  what  is  being 
played  where  an  orchestra  is  used,  and  by  learning  to 
ready  as  one  would  read  a  book,  the  written  page  of 
symphonies  and  overtures,  which  will  inform  one  of  the 
various  effects  and  proper  use  of  the  several  instruments 
far  better  than  any  amount  of  verbal  description.  Or- 
chestral scores  can  now  be  obtained  at  comparatively 
small  cost,  and  there  is  nothing  that  will  add  more  to  the 
general  musical  intelligence  and  appreciation  of  any 
one,  whatever  his  own  specialty  in  the  art,  than  a  course 
of  study  in  this  direction.     It  is  hoped  that  this  short 

92 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 

account,  superficial  as  it  is,  from  the  standpoint  of  an 
advanced  orchestral  student,  may  turn  the  attention  of 
some  who  have  never  thought  of  bestowing  any  time 
upon  it,  to  one  of  the  most  attractive  lines  of  musical 
study. 


93 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


Should  Religious  Text  be  Sung  to  Secular 
Music  ? 

^I^S  there  any  inherent  incompatibility  between 
^1  sacred  words  and  music  originally  composed  for 
^^  secular  text?  Or,  as  some  would  put  it,  can  re- 
ligious thought  ever  be  adequately  set  to  worldly  songs? 
Can  operatic  airs  ever  become  suitable  hymn-tunes? 
There  is  an  apparent  incongruity  in  the  combination: 
but  are  they  essentially  incongruous? 

Firstly,  be  it  observed,  there  is  no  religious  or  irre- 
ligious quality  in  music  per  se..  It  stirs  emotion,  but 
emotion  of  itself  involves  no  specific  thought.  A  recent 
magazine  article  contains  this  expression:  '*A  deep 
devoutness  pervaded  the  first  theme"  of  Beethoven's 
Adagio  beginning  as  follows: 


Adagio 


The  expression  sounds  well,  and  is  a  fine  tribute  to 
the  music  in  question ;  but  such  characterization  shows 
an  utter  misconception  of  the  nature  of  devoutness  itself, 
which  is  a  religious  attitude  of  mind,  and  not  predicable 
of  pure  art-sentiment.    The  foregoing  instance  of   the 

94 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

misuse  of  terms  reminds  me  of  a  similar  mistake  made  by 
the  noted  naturalist,  John  Burroughs  —  when  he  said, 
in  "Wake  Robin,"  describing  the  song  of  the  hermit 
thrush,  '*As  its  evening  hymn  goes  up  from  the  deep 
solitude  below  me,  I  experience  that  serene  exaltation  of 
sentiment,  of  which  music j  literature  and  religion''  — 
mark  the  words,  the  itaUcs  are  mine!  —  "are  but  faint 
types  and  symbols." 

I  yield  to  none  in  my  admiration  of  the  hermit  thrush 
—  it  is  an  angel  in  feathers  —  and  am  fully  persuaded  of 
the  immeasurable  religious  efficiency  of  noble  music. 
This  art  is  indeed  the  chosen  and  incomparable  hand- 
maid of  religion ;  but  music  is  not  religion  —  the  hand- 
maid has  a  distinct  individuality  from  the  mistress! 

In  fact,  music  is  the  chameleon  of  the  arts  —  all 
things  to  all  men:  at  one  time  the  daintiest  pressure  of 
the  Great  Mind  and  Heart  upon  the  human  soul,  its 
angelic  ministrant;  and  anon  it  shows  itself  the  seduc- 
tive fairy  in  the  very  haunts  of  crime.  But  in  our  most 
sacred,  sad,  or  rapturous  moods  it  flashes  like  a  wire- 
less message  from  the  Eternal  Throne.  Potent,  mys- 
terious and  contradictory  enough  to  be  a  feminine 
divinity ! 

Yet  the  most  inspiring  instrumental  effects  will  not 
purify  one's  moral  nature  —  will  not  reform  a  thief  into 
an  honest  man,  nor  make  a  miserly  man  generous. 
Neither  will  the  most  contemptible  creations  of  the  art 
debase  an  honorable  mind.  It  is  the  association  of  dis- 
tinct thought,  or  the  uplifting  or  degrading  environment 
appropriate  to  the  music  in  question,  that  will  induce 
these  results  respectively.    No  other  art  shows  such  ex- 

95 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

tremes  of  noble  and  ignoble;  yet  the  suitability  of  the 
one  kind  for  the  sanctuary  does  not  prove  it  to  be  in- 
trinsically virtuous,  neither  does  the  suitability  of  an- 
other kind  for  the  vulgar  dance-hall  prove  it  to  be  in- 
trinsically vicious:  but  each  is  strangely  in  harmony 
with  its  sacred  or  its  degraded  surroundings. 

In  sentiments  of  nobility,  of  sublimity,  of  adoration, 
the  quality  of  the  emotion,  barring  its  more  specific 
coloring,  is  essentially  the  same.  The  emotions  of  a  re- 
fined moral  nature,  in  the  wide  range  of  affections,  de- 
sires, joys  and  sorrows,  are  fully  akin  to  those  of  religion; 
they  are  of  the  same  lofty  strain,  and  lacking  only,  if 
they  lack  at  all,  in  the  measure  of  intensity.  There  is 
indeed,  the  very  odor  of  sanctity  in  the  upper  ranges  of 
all  moral  thought,  and,  as  in  the  eloquent  outburst  of 
Coleridge  in  his  Apostrophe  to  Mont  Blanc,  a  great 
mind's  gravitation  is  ever  upward  to  the  Infinite.  A 
secular  poem,  written  by  one  who  contemplates  the 
grandeur  of  creation,  as  borne  in  upon  him  by  the  spec- 
tacle of  the  heavens  studded  with  the  stupendous  array 
of  worlds,  is  of  kindred  mould  with  David's  distinctly 
devout  appreciation  of  "the  heavens,  the  work  of  Thy 
fingers,  the  moon  and  stars  which  Thou  hast  ordained," 
and  will  inspire  a  musical  setting  of  kindred  spirit.  It 
is  even  true  that  an  impressive  thought,  of  a  distinctly 
secular  character,  may  awaken  a  more  impassioned  and 
elevated  sentiment  than  one  that  is  less  profound,  yet 
characteristically  religious ;  for  even  religious  sentiments 
do  not  all  appeal  with  equal  force  to  the  mind  and  heart. 

In  the  absolute  harmony  between  a  thought  and  the 
emotion  it  evokes  it  may  be  possible  that  each  thought 

96 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

has  a  finely  individual  shade  of  color  in  its  accompany- 
ing sentiment,  yet  a  shade  too  subtle  to  prevent  its 
blending  with  another  thought  of  the  same  general 
quality;  just  as  the  same  music  may  properly  accom- 
pany successive  verses,  each  with  a  somewhat  distinct 
cast  of  meaning.  Nay,  as  we  shall  see  presently,  the 
sentiment  of  a  musical  composition  may,  in  fact,  more 
finely  harmonize  with  some  other  thought  than  with  the 
one  that  directly  called  it  into  being.  For  with  that 
power  of  conceiving  a  musical  idea  entirely  independent 
of  all  verbal  text,  which  is  possessed  by  every  composer, 
it  may  well  happen  that  the  sentiment  of  the  music  may 
be  superior  to  that  of  the  accompanying  words. 

It  is  a  natural  but  unwarranted  assumption  for  the 
layman  to  suppose  that  in  the  setting  of  religious  text 
the  composer  is  necessarily  in  a  corresponding  vein  of 
sentiment.  The  mass  of  rubbish  annually  put  forth  by 
all  the  leading  music  publishers  under  the  guise  of 
sacred  music  is  sufficient  refutation  of  that  idea.  With 
a  fair  amount  of  composing  technique,  the  most  me- 
chanical and  worldly-minded  musician  can  reel  off  yards 
of  colorless  religiosity,  of  too  cheap  a  quality  to  be  a 
fitting  accompaniment  to  even  a  worldly  sentiment  of 
sterling  merit.  The  text  is  deep  enough  to  float  the 
music,  but  the  music  is  too  shallow  to  emphasize  the 
text.  The  worthy  setting  of  a  noble  secular  hymn  is 
vastly  more  in  the  mood  of  the  Psalms  or  of  any  modern 
religious  poetry  than  are  the  commonplaces  of  much  of 
the  so-called  sacred  music  which  is  linked,  in  rhythm 
only,  to  the  songs  of  the  church. 

While  we  often  find  a  music-mechanic  thus  essaying 

97 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

a  vein  of  authorship  that  is  too  lofty  for  him,  it  also 
sometimes  occurs  that  the  noble  harmonies  of  a  great 
composer  —  partially  inspired  by  his  purely  musical 
sentiment  rather  than  by  the  text  —  are  ignobly  wedded 
to  thoughts  that  are  beneath  the  dignity  of  their  ac- 
companiment. 

In  all  musical  literature  there  is  no  song  of  more  de- 
vout impressiveness,  or  of  grander  simplicity,  than 
Handel's  "Largo,"  now  canonized  by  the  church  as  the 
worthiest  type  of  sacred  music.     Its  present  text  — 

Trust  in  the  Lord ;  His  name  we  ever  bless, 
In  grief  and  happiness,  with  one  accord 
Until  our  journey's  end.    O  Lord,  our  souls  defend 
With  watchful  care.  — 

breathes  a  sentiment  most  nobly  matched  by  the  setting 
of  the  Miltonic  tone-poet.  But  to  no  such  thought  did 
it  owe  its  origin.  It  is  an  excerpt  from  the  opera 
** Xerxes,"  and  we  must  thank  the  composer's  inherently 
religious  mood  for  the  matchless  production,  unless  it 
be  thought  possible  that  he  drew  inspiration  from  the 
original  text,  which  is  simply  this: 

No  tree  gave  with  its  branches 
Such  a  blessed  shade(!) 

The  most  secular  music  of  some  composers  shows  a 
sanctity  that  is  far  beyond  the  artificial  fervor  of  many 
a  professedly  sacred  writer. 

In  the  same  mood  is  the  famous  Air  from  Handel's 
"Rinaldo." 

98 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


i 


Largo 


J  J.i^^^J'i.^ 


63 


Wl-i^i^^ 


rrr 


m 


f-  f- 


£ 


etc. 


:^=1?: 


^ 


f 


This  was  originally  attached  —  one  can  hardly  say 
wedded  —  to  these  words: 

Here  let  my  tears  flow!  Let  hope  my  soul  know, 
My  heart  is  longing  for  freedom  dear! 

But  the  aria  seems  to  come  to  its  own  when  mated  to 
the  following  text: 

"O,  Lord!  correct  me  not  in  Thine  anger: 
Have  mercy  upon  me,  and  blot  out  all  my  sin." 

Beethoven,  like  Bach,  stands  for  that  quality  of  senti- 
ment that  is  so  super-earthly  that  it  almost  glorifies 
whatever  text  it  touches,  and  his  quartet  in  "Fidelio," 
with   the   following   melody   running   through   all   the 

voices, 

etc. 


i 


k 


i 


t 


X    X   f 


±=# 


admirably  accompanies  and  reflects  the  serious  mood  of 
the  following  text,  as  now  sung  in  church : 

O,  Lord,  veil  not  Thy  face, 
Thy  smile  on  us  bestow. 
Thou  art  the  fountain  of  all  grace 
From  whence  our  blessings  richly  flow. 
99 


RAMBLES     IN     MUSIC-LAND 


It  was  originally  composed  to  the  words  of  Marcelline, 
speaking  of  her  lover: 

How  strange  a  mood  is  mine; 
My  heart's  pent  up  in  me. 
He  loves  me,  I  divine, 
How  happy  I  shall  be. 

A  very  churchly  hymn-anthem  has  been  formed  out 
of  the  following  harmonized  melody  of  a  well  known 
song  by  Robert  Franz,  entitled  "Widmung,"  beginning 
as  follows: 


m 


t 


^ 


mm 


^=Tf 


i 


n-^ 


i 


B 


1  1^ 


1 


k: 


^ 


ite 


^ 


^ 


which  fits  the  following  text: 

Lord,  I  am  Thine,  entirely  Thine; 
Purchased  and  saved  by  blood  divine; 

the  words  first  set  to  it  are  as  follows: 

Oh,  thank  me  not  for  what  I  sing  thee: 
Thine  are  the  songs,  no  gift  of  mine, 

Thou  gav'st  them  me: 
I  but  return  thee  what  is  and  ever  will  be  thine. 

ICO 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Such  illustrations  amply  justify  the  assertion  that  the 
quality  of  the  music  may  possibly  be  superior  to  the 
thought  that  is  supposed  to  inspire  it,  and  that  vocal 
music  is  sometimes  of  a  noble  sort,  despite  the  text,  not 
because  of  it.  The  instinctive  mood  of  the  composer  is 
an  unseen  power  governing  his  harmonic  and  melodic  in- 
vention more  or  less  independently  of  the  textual  claims. 

One  of  Mendelssohn's  most  devotional  arias,  "O,  rest 
in  the  Lord,"  at  the  time  of  its  composition  is  said  to 
have  been  so  suggestive,  in  some  of  its  phrases,  of  a 
then  popular  song,  that  he  felt  impelled  to  make  sufficient 
alteration  to  conceal  the  original  resemblance. 

There  is  nothing  more  infused  with  genuine  religious 
fervor,  nothing  that  seems  more  spontaneously  the  ex- 
pression of  a  divine  efflatus  in  song,  than  the  old  German 
choral  —  in  breadth,  dignity  and  churchliness  the  pride 
and  masterpiece  of  the  foremost  musical  nation  of  the 
world.  It  is  a  grievous  blow  to  those  who  insist  upon 
having  all  church  music  born  in  the  church  to  know  that 
these  most  potent  aids  to  worship  were  not  born  in  the 
church,  but  in  the  very  streets  of  worldliness;  in  fact, 
many  of  them  are  rehabilitated  songs  of  a  low  order,  in 
their  original  form  of  a  decidedly  frivolous  and  vulgar 
description,  seemingly  past  redemption  for  all  moral,  not 
to  say  holy,  purposes;  yet  so  transformed  in  tempo  and 
rhythm  that,  —  something  like  kimonos  dyed  black  and 
converted  into  choir  vestments  —  however  flagrant  sin- 
ners and  companions  of  sinners  they  may  have  been  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  at  present,  with  their  sins  washed 
away,  they  are  standing  in  spotless  robes,  doing  wel- 
come service  within  the  precincts  of  the  sanctuary. 

lOI 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

A  melody,  worthy  of  a  Psalm,  may  originally  come  to 
the  composer's  mind  as  a  purely  instrumental  strain ;  or, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  it  may  first  link  itself  with 
poetry  that  is  distinctly  inferior  to  its  own  sentiment, 
and,  like  an  unhappy  marriage,  live  a  long  life  of  mesal- 
liance, only  to  come  to  its  own  in  after  ages.  True 
musical  instinct  will  judge  of  the  fitness  or  unfitness  of 
vocal  settings,  not  according  to  the  accidental  circum- 
stances of  origin  and  past  association,  but  according  to 
the  natural  compatibility  of  text  and  song,  without  cast- 
ing aspersions  upon  the  latter  for  having  lived  some  of 
its  life  out  of  a  state  of  grace.  Such  criticism,  under 
the  guise  of  zeal  for  artistic  morality,  is  in  reality  a 
species  of  pharisaical  snobbishness. 

There  are  strains  in  the  Prize  Song  from  "The  Meister- 
singer"  which  would  well  match  the  devout  sentiment 
of  our  hymnology,  but  whose  use,  for  the  present,  at 
least,  is  forbidden  by  the  secular  atmosphere  of  its  original 
setting.  As  such  an  objection  in  the  lapse  of  time  ceases 
to  be  valid  for  the  exclusion  of  so-called  secular  music 
from  the  repertory  of  the  church,  such  compositions  will 
properly  find  entrance  where  their  intrinsic  nature 
thoroughly  harmonizes  with  their  new  surroundings. 


102 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


Why  do   We  have  Four-part  Harmony  ? 

^^♦HY  is  the  prevalent  form  of  vocal  music  the 
T  Jl  quartet,  whether  for  single  voices  or  for  choral 
"^^  masses?  Why  is  the  string  quartet  the  model 
for  the  purest,  the  most  satisfying  form  of  concerted 
instrumental  effects?  To  say  that  herein  we  are 
adapting  ourselves  to  nature's  provision  of  soprano,  alto, 
tenor  and  bass,  is  to  treat  the  matter  superficially. 
We  seek  a  more  fundamental  solution  —  a  solution,  in 
fact,  that  will  explain  why  nature  herself  has  deemed 
it  wise  to  give  us  just  these  four  ranges  of  voice. 
The  search  for  an  answer  brings  many  interesting  facts 
to  view. 

The  pleasure  derived  from  music  is  a  complex  affair; 
it  comes  from  several  sources;  and  that  form  of  music 
which  most  successfully  avails  of  the  different  means  of 
effectiveness  will,  of  course,  be  the  most  generally  pop- 
ular. For  illustration,  let  us  briefly  revert  to  another 
matter. 

A  color  has  its  own  intrinsic  beauty.  The  eye  revels 
in  every  pure,  rich  shade;  it  is  a  feast  to  our  vision;  but 
it  affords  still  keener  delight  when  seen  beside  another 
beautiful  color,  each  of  the  two  as  satisfying  as  before, 
but  the  pleasure  enhanced  by  their  mutual  reaction;  the 
contrast  makes  the  individuality  and  charm  of  each 
more  vivid;  the  ensemble  gives  an  added  element  of 
pleasure.  In  a  splendid  cloud  effect  at  sunset  —  nature's 
apotheosis  of  the  day  —  the  eye  delights  to  wander  from 
one  tint  to  another,  finding  a  fresh  enjoyment  at  each 

103 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

return  to  the  gorgeous  red  from  the  tender  blue,  the 
deHcate  pink,  or  the  wondrous  green  —  each  hue  in- 
comparably exquisite,  yet  with  some  effect  of  monotony, 
if  it  were  but  one  broad  expanse  filling  the  sky  alone, 
and  becoming  most  ravishing  through  the  successive 
glances  of  an  eye  that  roams  over  a  variety  of  color.   • 

The  analogy  of  such  ensemble  as  we  find  in  the  sun- 
set clouds,  and  that  of  music  in  the  several  voices  of  its 
harmony,  is  quite  close;  but  an  important  difference  is 
to  be  noted.  In  such  a  cloud  view  the  colors  mean 
nothing,  either  individually  or  collectively,  except  as  a 
delicious  impression  upon  the  eye.  No  thought  fills  the 
scene.  It  is  simply  superb  but  sensuous  beauty.  Music, 
however,  carries  an  idea,  and  the  ensemble  of  well  ordered 
harmony  appeals  not  only  to  the  ear  but  to  the  mind; 
and  while  the  contrast  of  the  cloud  colors  is  far  more 
vivid  than  that  of  the  voices  in  harmony,  and  therefore 
has  more  power  of  intensifying  the  beauty  of  each,  as  a 
mere  sensuous  impression,  the  musical  ensemble  —  the 
harmony  —  by  the  higher  quality  of  its  suggestiveness 
atones  for  the  lack  of  striking  difference  in  tone  quality. 

A  painting,  too,  though  devoid  of  nature's  inimitable 
tints,  in  the  same  way  compensates  for  this  deficiency 
by  the  idea  conveyed  in  its  combination  of  colors;  and 
thereby  becomes  a  close  analogue  of  music.  The  first 
element  in  the  one  is  mere  color;  in  the  other  mere 
tone.  The  second  element  in  the  one  is  the  ensemble 
of  contrasting  colors;  in  the  other  the  ensemble  of  con- 
trasting tones;  and  the  third  element  in  each  is  the 
idea  conveyed  —  in  the  music  by  the  sense  of  the  mel- 
ody and  of  its  sustaining  harmony. 

104 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

But  a  painting  may  be  too  highly  wrought  in  color. 
If  it  shows  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow,  it  may  indeed  be 
interesting  as  a  mere  color-study,  but  it  would  fail  to 
produce  a  broad  and  restful  effect,  it  would  becloud  the 
idea,  it  would  confuse  and  weary  the  mind.  The  con- 
tents of  two  well  painted  pictures,  if  compressed  into 
one,  instead  of  making  It  doubly  beautiful,  would  make 
it  a  failure  by  a  surfeit  of  colors,  of  contrasts,  and  of 
ideas,  even  though  each  color  were  as  rich  and  delicate 
as  nature  herself  in  her  happiest  moods  could  produce. 

This  helps  one  to  understand  the  requirements  and 
the  limitations  In  a  musical  art-work,  for  the  principle 
is  the  same  in  both.  If  too  much  be  crowded  into  the 
texture  of  the  composition,  there  will  similarly  be  con- 
fusion of  mind,  and  a  blurring  of  the  beauty.  The  im- 
pression here,  as  well  as  in  the  painting,  must  be  broad 
and  restful.  It  must  not  be  overloaded  with  diverse 
tone-colors  —  that  is,  with  too  many  parts  in  the  har- 
mony; for  if  the  harmony  is  too  full  the  ear  is  surfeited, 
just  as  the  eye  is,  in  a  superabundance  of  diverse  tints. 
Each  of  these  sorts  of  art-work  must  be  measurably 
simple  and  transparent,  the  individuality  of  the  parts  or 
voices  must  not  be  drowned  in  a  bewildering  excess  of 
parts  or  of  colors;  there  must  be  in  each  case  a  com- 
promise whereby  the  three  elements  —  individual  voice 
or  color,  ensemble  of  harmony  or  of  colors,  and  an  easily 
apprehended  idea  in  each,  will  have  its  due  quota  of  at- 
tention. 

A  masterpiece  of  a  composer,  like  the  masterpiece  of 
any  writer,  has  for  its  greatest  charm  what  may  best  be 
expressed  by  the  word  transparency,  wherein  there  is 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

the  greatest  possible  utilization  of  the  various  sources  of 
pleasure  to  be  derived  from  the  composition.  The  at- 
tainment of  that  compromise  is  reached  only  by  long 
experience.  Just  as  there  must  not  be  too  many  melodies 
in  any  one  composition,  so  there  must  not  be  too  many 
parts  in  the  harmony.  There  must  be  a  satisfying  ful- 
ness, free  from  fatigue,  sufficiently  forceful  to  be  an  easy 
and  adequate  support  for  the  melody. 

A  beautiful  solo  may  be  compared  in  some  degree  to 
a  broad  expanse  of  one  delightful  color  filling  the  western 
sky  at  sunset  —  a  unique  effect,  and  not  to  be  de- 
preciated; even  indispensable  in  the  demands  for 
musical  variety;  yet  monotonous,  in  a  way,  like  a 
marine  view  that  shows  only  a  limitless  expanse  of 
ocean.  It  offers  none  of  the  contrast  of  ensemble,  ex- 
cept as  that  is  found  in  the  accompaniment.  In  a  duet, 
the  honors  are  divided,  but  without  sufficient  harmonic 
contrast  and  richness  to  make  it  a  satisfactory  com- 
bination of  all  the  resources  available.  The  trio  ap- 
proximates to  the  proper  balance,  but  with  an  inevitable 
thinness  that  is  a  marked  defect.  In  four-part  harmony, 
the  distinctiveness  of  the  individual  voices  is  consider- 
ably more  obscure  than  in  the  trio,  but,  according  to 
the  consensus  of  opinion,  more  is  gained  by  the  more 
satisfying  fulness  of  the  ensemble  than  is  lost  in  the 
obscuring  of  the  several  parts.  In  the  quintet  the  in- 
crease of  harmony  is  notably  fine  on  occasion,  but  the 
increased  complexity  soon  wearies  the  ear,  and  the 
transparency  is  seriously  marred.  For  many  striking 
effects  we  are  indebted  to  the  sextet  and  to  the  double 
quartet  or  double  chorus,  but  even  in  compositions  so 

1 06 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

denominated  there  is  very  frequent  recurrence  to  the 
standard  number,  four. 

As  our  minds  are  constituted,  we  do  not  seem  able  to 
be  permanently  satisfied  with  any  adjustment  of  the 
matter  other  than  that  which  is  in  accord  with  nature's 
provision  of  soprano,  alto,  tenor  and  bass,  as  what  may 
be  called  the  normal  fulness  of  harmony,  whereby  the 
greatest  aggregate  of  pleasure  from  all  possible  sources 
is  obtained. 

In  some  other  sphere  the  conditions  may  be  altered. 
The  most  clearly  musical  range  of  tones  may  then  be 
increased  from  about  four  octaves,  as  at  present,  to  an 
indefinite  number;  what  now  seems  complex  to  our 
minds  may  hereafter  become  simple.  If  we  shall  ever 
be  able  to  detect  tones  in  the  vibrations  of  the  colors 
of  the  spectrum,  which  are  so  rapid  that  their  intonation 
is  now  too  acute  for  our  ear,  what  a  wonderful  revolution 
might  result  through  such  an  opening  of  the  heavens 
in  the  blending  of  Light  and  Song!  No  one  can  forecast 
what  changes  there  may  be  in  the  principles  of  the  art 
to  match  our  own  increased  capabilities.  All  such 
dreams  are  purely  speculative,  yet  we  may  well  believe 
that  the  limitless  future  has  in  store  such  progress  in 
every  one  of  the  arts,  and  especially  in  this  most  intimate 
and  emotional  of  them  all,  as  shall  make  the  grandest 
attainments  in  this  mortal  sphere  seem  as  but  the  shadow 
of  that  which  is  to  come. 


107 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


^artet  Versus  Chorus  Choir 

^^yfHE  indispensable  element  of  song  in  church  ser- 
IlL  vice  presents  many  difficulties,  according  to  the 
^^  taste  —  or,  more  often,  the  financial  disabilities  — 
of  the  several  congregations.  The  problem  has  taxed 
the  ingenuity  —  and  often  the  temper  —  of  multitudes 
in  every  century,  and  a  page  from  the  records  of  the 
earliest  'churches  upon  this  point  reads  like  modern 
history.  Matters  of  theological  belief  may  modify,  to 
some  extent,  the  ritual  of  the  various  branches  of  the 
church;  but  there  seems  to  be  no  good  reason  why 
there  should  not  be,  throughout  the  entire  Christian 
body,  at  least  a  consensus  of  opinion  as  to  the  highest 
ideal  of  musical  worship,  even  though  circumstances 
may  forever  prevent  the  universal  attainment  of  that 
ideal. 

Of  the  three  general  forms  of  service  in  vogue  —  con- 
gregational singing,  quartet  choirs,  and  chorus  choirs  — 
we  will  speak  only  of  the  last  two,  as  the  first  is  not  ex- 
cluded through  the  adoption  of  the  others,  and  as  its 
exclusive  use  —  at  least  in  this  country  —  is  only  from 
sheer  necessity. 

Without  contradiction,  the  most  appropriate  and  im- 
pressive form  of  musical  worship  is  the  choral  service  of 
a  large  choir.  Majestic  and  solemn  harmonies,  con- 
sonant with  the  atmosphere  of  the  day  and  of  the  sur- 
roundings, can  be  adequately  rendered  only  by  the  vol- 
ume of  numerous  voices;  and  apparently  no  modern 
church  music,  of  whatever  form,  has  inspired  the  devout 

io8 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

enthusiasm  that  was  aroused  by  the  immense  Temple 
choirs  of  the  ancient  Hebrews,  if  we  may  judge  by  the 
tribute  of  praise  from  the  royal  Psalmist,  the  poet- 
musician  of  that  gifted  race.  Volume  of  tone  is  not 
synonymous  with  loudness.  A  hundred  violins  may  be 
subdued  to  the  softness  of  one,  but  with  a  quality  of 
tone  that  tells  of  a  blended  multitude.  And  thus  in  the 
pianissimo  of  a  great  chorus  there  is  a  subdued  yet  thrill- 
ing fulness  of  tone,  like  the  suppression  of  gigantic 
power,  which  is  even  more  impressive  than  the  loud  out- 
burst of  jubilant  harmonies;  and  these  are  the  strains 
whose  ethereal  echoes  linger  the  longest  in  the  memory. 

A  large  choir  combines  the  magnetism  and  even  the 
intensification  of  personality  with  the  effectiveness  of 
personal  effacement.  The  personal  element  pervades, 
but  does  not  intrude.  In  the  concentration  of  many 
voices  is  that  surcharged  force  which  is  only  found  where 
one  thought  and  one  sentiment  sways  a  multitude  —  a 
dynamic  energy  which  sweeps  the  congregation  into  the 
same  tide  of  feeling.  No  heart  is  so  dull  as  to  be  unre- 
sponsive to  such  cumulative  utterance  of  inspiring 
thought  —  an  irresistible  power  to  soften  and  to  solem- 
nize the  auditor,  lifting  the  entire  service  to  a  lofty  plane 
of  holy  meditation  and  of  high  resolve.  Such  music 
penetrates  the  congregation  with  that  rare  sabbatic  at- 
mosphere which  gives  a  clearer  vision  of  the  things  un- 
seen in  the  world's  common  light,  adding  persuasive  em- 
phasis to  all  that  lies  within  the  preacher's  power  to  say. 

This,  without  exaggeration,  is  the  efficiency  of  an  ideal 
chorus,  as  one  hears  its  jubilant  acclaim  or  gentle  bene- 
diction breaking  the  venerable  silence  of  long  ages  in. 

109 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

some  vast  Old-world  cathedral.  The  potency  of  mul- 
titudinous song  is  unrivalled  in  all  other  arts,  ever  the 
supreme  expression  of  adoring  praise  or  prayer,  from  the 
remotest  paean  of  the  "Morning  Stars"  to  the  wondrous 
final  outburst  of  recorded  prophecy  from  the  angelic 
host,  with  whose  last  strains  the  Seer  of  Patmos  closes 
his  sublime  account. 

But  how  are  we  to  compare  quartet  with  chorus?  It 
is  impossible,  for  things  that  are  not  in  the  same  cate- 
gory do  not  admit  of  comparison.  We  may  compare 
the  oak  and  the  elm,  but  not  the  oak  and  the  clinging 
vine;  or,  one  gem  with  another,  but  not  a  diamond  and 
a  lily;  or,  the  oratorios  of  Handel  and  of  Mendelssohn; 
but  neither  "The  Messiah"  nor  "Elijah"  with  a  delicious 
song  of  Schubert  or  of  Brahms.  How  can  one  speak  of 
a  string  quartet  and  of  a  full  orchestra  in  terms  of  com- 
parison? It  is  quite  as  futile  as  to  compare  beauty  and 
utility  —  the  glory  of  a  sunset  with  the  tidal  power  of 
the  moon,  or  the  Alps  with  the  ocean.  All  of  these  ob- 
jects are  intrinsically  diverse;  they  are  not  rivals,  and 
only  rivals  can  be  compared. 

An  ideal  vocal  quartet!  What  an  exquisite  work  of 
nature  and  of  art !  —  the  harmonious  rivalry  of  the  four 
supreme  instruments  of  the  Lord's  own  make,  and 
steeped  in  personality.  Here  grace  replaces  choral 
majesty  —  the  airy,  the  substantial;  the  ethereal,  the 
massive.  An  ideal  quartet  adorns  a  mighty  chorus  just 
as  the  capital  adorns  the  column,  or  brilliant  clouds  a 
landscape.  It  shines  with  lunar  ray,  and  not  with  sun- 
light's searching  power.  Its  mood  is  playful,  more  than 
serious;   it  stirs  the  mind  to  fancy  rather  than  to  medi- 

IIO 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

tation;  it  is  an  aquarelle  and  not  an  oil.  A  chorus  is  as 
ill-fitted  for  the  more  elegant  and  subtle  accomplish- 
ments of  a  fine  quartet,  as  ponderous  Jove  would  be  for 
the  nimble  tasks  of  wing-footed  Mercury;  and  the  quar- 
tet makes  no  less  of  a  failure  in  feebly  vieing  with  the 
chorus.  Not  rivals,  let  them  be  like  the  mountain 
range  that  looms  above  the  placid  lake,  the  grandeur  of 
the  one  a  foil  to  enhance  the  other's  grace,  each  con- 
tributing to  the  other's  charm  and  power. 

But  the  realism  of  this  world  falls  far  short  of  its 
idealism,  and  necessity  often  drives  us  into  strange 
straits.  In  the  approval  of  the  good  there  may  be  entire 
unanimity,  while  in  the  necessary  choice  of  evils  there 
is  large  room  for  argument;  and  thus  throughout  the 
church  we  see  such  wide  variety  in  the  attempt  to  gain 
the  end  through  insufficient  means;  here  a  good  quartet, 
there  a  good  chorus;  or  the  one  bad,  and  the  other  bad; 
or  lastly,  the  unequal  yoking  of  the  good  and  the  bad; 
and  almost  all  of  this  variety  of  failure  directly  traceable 
to  that  cause  of  so  much  woe,  pecuniary  limitations. 

As  between  a  poor  quartet  and  a  poor  chorus,  the  ad- 
vantage is  on  the  side  of  the  latter;  for  at  least  it  best 
conforms  to  the  ecclesiastical  spirit  —  in  form  if  not  in 
substance;  less  pretentious,  it  provokes  less  criticism. 
The  efforts  of  a  quartet  are  more  likely  to  be  judged  by 
a  high  standard  of  art,  and  a  predominant  spirit  of  art 
criticism  will  largely  nullify  the  spiritual  purpose  of  the 
music.  In  a  chorus  the  disparity  between  what  it  is 
and  what  it  might  be  is  less  obtrusive;  it  avoids  the 
distinctly  personal  element,  often  so  objectionable  in  a 
group  of  solo  voices;  there  is  no  display  of  vanity,  self- 

III 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

consciousness  and  ambition  which  brings  too  often  the 
work  of  a  quartet  to  the  level  of  a  concert  performance. 
Crudity  of  voice  and  of  style  are  less  apparent  in  a  chorus; 
for  it  is  a  singular  and  a  fortunate  fact  that  a  dozen 
voices  on  any  part,  individually  raw  and  irritating,  will 
often  blend  into  a  homogeneous  tone,  clear,  agreeable 
and  musical;  the  individual  qualities  largely  eliminated, 
the  good  remains  and  the  bad  disappears.  An  im- 
portant consideration,  too,  is  the  fact  that  there  is  a 
large  amount  of  choral  music,  simple,  easy  and  churchly, 
which  a  very  inferior  chorus  can  be  trained  to  render 
effectively,  but  which  would  be  unsuitable  for  per- 
formance by  four  voices. 

As  regards  the  relative  efficiency  of  quartet  and 
chorus,  it  must  be  said  that  the  success  of  the  latter, 
more  than  that  of  the  former,  depends  upon  the  ability 
and  fidelity  of  the  director,  the  musical  education  of  the 
chorus  being  as  a  rule  inferior;  but  as  the  director  is 
often  more  zealous  for  ease  than  for  the  best  effects,  his 
preference  for  a  quartet  is  often  open  to  suspicion,  and 
his  advice  is  to  be  received  with  allowance;  as  in  the 
case  of  a  director  once  prominent  in  New  York  choirs, 
who  said,  in  choosing  a  singer  for  his  quartet,  that  he 
did  not  care  what  kind  of  a  voice  she  had,  if  she  were 
only  a  good  reader! 

In  the  choice  between  these  two  forms  of  choirs,  a 
consideration  of  increasing  importance  is  the  fact  of  the 
comparatively  limited  repertoire  available  for  quartets, 
and  the  great  abundance  of  suitable  music  for  a  chorus. 
A  volume  of  tone,  or  that  peculiar  solidity  of  tone,  even 
in  piano  passages,  obtainable  only  from  an  aggregation 

112 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

of  voices,  which  makes  many  a  simple  anthem  stately 
and  dignified  in  choral  rendering,  is  so  painfully  lacking 
in  the  performance  of  four  voices,  however  strong,  that 
much  of  the  present  quartet  work  in  our  churches  is 
pitiable  and  grotesque.  Harmonies  may  be  treated  in 
such  a  way  that  their  meaning  can  be  amply  interpreted 
by  four  solo  voices;  but  the  composer  of  church  music, 
if  he  have  the  ecclesiastical  spirit,  will  find  the  natural 
expression  of  his  thoughts  in  a  vein  of  harmonies  re- 
quiring the  interpretation  of  a  chorus. 

Moreover,  the  difficulty  of  doing  justice  to  the  service 
through  quartet  work  is  constantly  increasing,  since  the 
trend  of  composition,  especially  in  this  country,  which 
was  formerly  more  in  the  direction  of  suitable  quartets, 
is  more  and  more  in  the  line  of  heavier  choral  works;  so 
that  the  problem  of  a  quartet  director,  in  the  selection 
of  his  Sunday  program,  is  the  problem  that  made  my 
own  management  of  a  quartet  choir  a  constant  source 
of  anxiety,  viz.,  whether  to  give  something  that  was  old 
and  familiar,  and  yet  good,  or  to  satisfy  the  desire  for 
novelty  by  presenting  something  new,  but  inferior. 

The  unchurchly  taste  for  concert  display,  which  years 
ago  made  quartet  choirs  almost  universal,  is  giving  place 
to  a  growing  recognition  of  the  intrinsic  superiority  of 
choral  performance  in  church  worship;  and  with  the 
elimination  of  high-priced  soloists,  and  the  subordina- 
tion of  incidental  solo  work,  the  same  expenditure  is 
found  adequate  to  pay  for  a  good  chorus.  And  yet,  with 
the  present  critical  taste  of  our  audiences,  and  the  de- 
mand for  good  solo  voices,  it  is  usually  impossible  to 
meet  the  requirements  of  the  case  quite  as  economically 

113 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

as  in  the  days  of  the  quartet's  popularity;  at  the  same 
time  the  success  of  a  church  service  is  felt  to  be  increas- 
ingly dependent  upon  the  attractiveness  of  its  music; 
and  herein  is  stated  the  present  aspect  of  the  problem. 
We  have  not  yet  reached,  in  this  matter,  the  stand- 
ard of  taste  shown  by  the  English,  who,  it  must  be 
confessed,  take  their  church  music  a  little  more  seri- 
ously than  we  are  wont  to  do.  But  with  the  practical 
good  sense  of  the  American  people,  and  a  growing  ap- 
preciation of  the  noblest  type  of  church  music,  we  can 
hope  that  this  question,  like  so  many  others,  in  our 
young  national  life,  will  eventually  find  a  satisfactory 
solution. 


114 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

How   Two-part  Harmony  can  have  the  Force 
of  Full  Harmony 

^iT  is  said  that  any  impression  on  the  eye  remains 
^1  one-ninth  of  a  second.  This  is  the  reason  that, 
^^  however  brief  the  time  during  which  the  impres- 
sion is  being  made,  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  there  is  a 
perceptible  continuance  of  the  picture  on  the  retina,  so 
that  the  actual  vision  seems  to  be  correspondingly 
lengthened. 

The  same  fact  is  true,  in  a  sense,  in  the  hearing  of 
tones.  Whether  it  has  been  scientifically  determined  or 
not  how  long  the  drum  of  the  ear  continues  to  vibrate 
after  the  impact  of  sound-waves,  it  is  easily  demon- 
strated, and  it  is  a  fact  of  the  utmost  importance  in 
musical  art,  that,  if  the  ear  itself  does  not  appreciably 
prolong  the  impression  made  by  a  tone,  certainly  the 
memory  retains  the  effect,  and  for  a  much  longer  time 
than  the  eye  retains  an  impression.  It  occasionally 
happens  that  this  retention  of  tones  in  the  memory  pro- 
duces embarrassment,  and  is  the  occasion  of  some  of  the 
important  rules  of  harmony;  but  the  advantage  of  such 
retention  outweighs  a  hundredfold  its  disadvantage,  and 
the  inability  to  retain  in  the  mind  the  impression  of 
sounds  that  have  ceased  to  be  audible  would  be  a  most 
serious  and  probably  a  fatal  injury  to  the  entire  art. 
We  will  attempt  to  show  briefly  the  effect  and  advantage 
of  retaining  or  remembering  previous  tones,  and  the 
proof  of  the  following  statements  must  be  found  in  the 
consciousness  of  the  reader,  who  will  easily  recognize 

"5 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

the  existence  of  certain  mental  processes  as  soon  as  they 
are  brought  to  his  attention. 
Play  the  following: 


i 


(b) 


w 


and  one  will  recognize  that  there  remains  in  his  mind  an 
impression  of  all  four  tones;  so  that,  if  played  rapidly, 
the  effect  is  very  much  the  same  as  the  chord  at  (b). 
This  means  that  by  striking  the  tones  of  a  chord  suc- 
cessively, those  that  have  ceased  to  sound  still  linger  in 
the  mind,  and  are  associated  with  each  new  tone.  Thus, 
the  following  passage,  in  two-part  harmony,  is  almost  as 
fully  three-part  harmony  as  the  passage  beneath  it. 


^—J-^ 


^^ 


m 


p 


-r=f 


The  following  is  practically  in   four-part  harmony, 
although  only  two  tones  are  sounding  simultaneously: 

ii6 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


$ 


^ 


^^T-* 


t      t 


^^^N^ 


i. 


This  mode  of  producing  harmony  has  several  advan- 
tages. First,  it  presents  it  in  a  more  lively  and  brilliant 
way,  without  having  the  chords  succeed  each  other  any 
more  rapidly.  Secondly,  it  makes  the  composition  more 
transparent,  lighter  and  more  graceful.  A  succession  of 
full  harmonies  may  easily  become  heavy,  and  fulsome 
to  the  ear,  whereas  the  foregoing  way  of  presenting  them 
affords  ample  harmonic  basis,  without  filling  the  ear 
with  such  a  mass  of  sound.  As  fundamental  harmonies 
cannot  acceptably  follow  each  other  with  great  rapidity, 
this  arpeggio  method  of  presenting  the  chords  enables 
the  composer  to  combine  the  necessary  moderate  pro- 
gression of  the  harmonies  involved  with  the  utmost 
rapidity  of  tone-succession;  and  the  possibility  of  such 
a  mode  of  writing  rests  back  upon  the  fact  of  the  re- 
membrance of  past  sounds. 

117 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

In  another  way,  too,  this  fact  is  of  the  most  essential 
importance  in  composition.  There  could  be  no  such 
thing  as  melody  unless  the  mind  retained  a  distinct  sense 
of  the  relation  of  successive  tones,  which  involves  the 
memory  of  past  tones.  It  would  be  impossible  to  state 
how  far  back  the  remembrance  extends,  as  it  becomes 
more  and  more  ill-defined  with  the  lapse  of  time;  but 
much  longer  passages  are  retained  than  would  be  sup- 
posed. A  proof  of  this  is  the  following  fact.  If  a  melody 
of  eight  measures  is  to  be  effective,  it  must,  as  a  rule, 
have  a  range  of  nearly  or  quite  an  octave;  otherwise, 
there  is  felt  to  be  a  monotony  in  the  narrowness  of  the 
melody's  compass.  Now,  if,  at  the  end  of  a  long  melody, 
there  is  felt  to  be  such  monotony,  it  can  only  be  because 
the  mind  is  conscious  of  the  entire  range,  from  beginning 
to  end.  There  is,  therefore,  an  ill-defined  remembrance 
of  the  tones  that  have  been  sounded  from  first  to  last. 

Another  evidence  of  the  same  fact  is  found  in  the  case 
of  "cross-relation,"  which  is  often  very  distinct  and 
offensive.  Cross-relation  is  the  antagonism  of  two  tones 
on  the  same  degree  of  the  scale  heard,  one  after  the 
other,  in  different  voices;  thus. 


shows  antagonism  between  C,  in  soprano,  and  C  sharp, 
in  bass.    The  worst  cases  of  cross-relation  are  those  in 

ii8 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

which  the  contradictory  tones  are  in  two  adjacent 
chords,  for  the  remembrance  of  an  immediately  preced- 
ing chord  is  very  distinct;  but  there  are  instances  where 
there  is  felt  to  be  a  conflict  between  such  tones,  where 
there  are  intervening  chords. 


i 


Different  persons  have  different  degrees  of  sensitive- 
ness to  this  class  of  effects,  and  if  the  second  of  the 
above  examples  is  played  slowly,  perhaps  no  one  would 
feel  the  contrariety  of  F  and  F#. 

This  matter  of  memory  reveals  a  degree  of  mental 
activity  in  the  intelligent  hearing  of  music  that  usually 
escapes  one's  notice  entirely,  and  goes  to  show  that  the 
appreciation  of  musical  effects  is  a  more  complicated 
affair  than  the  critical  perception  of  any  other  species 
of  art-work. 


119 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


Is  it  Advisable  for  Vocal  Pupils  to  Sing  in 
Chorus  Choirs? 

3T  depends  on  the  pupil  and  on  the  chorus.  First, 
as  to  the  pupil.  In  the  initial  stage  of  vocal  study 
the  all-essential  thing  is  that  the  voice  be  properly 
placed.  Very  seldom  does  it  happen  that  the  natural 
placement  is  the  proper  one;  and  according  to  the  intel- 
ligence of  the  pupil,  the  adaptability  of  the  vocal  organs, 
and  the  skill  of  the  teacher  will  be  the  time  required  for 
correct  tone  production ;  and  until  this  has  become  some- 
what instinctive,  it  is  not  advisable  for  the  pupil  to  prac- 
tice alone,  or  to  sing  at  all,  except  under  the  immediate 
supervision  of  the  teacher;  for  one  can  easily  frustrate 
all  the  good  results  of  instruction  from  lesson  to  lesson 
by  reverting  to  the  original  faulty  method  of  vocaliza- 
tion. For  a  period,  the  most  careful  teacher  limits  all 
use  of  the  singing  voice  to  the  lesson  hour,  until  the  pupil 
can  be  safely  trusted  to  follow  directions  in  his  private 
practice.  But  even  when  this  point  is  reached,  it  is 
necessary  for  the  pupil  to  exercise  great  caution  in  at- 
tempting to  sing  unfamiliar  music;  for  in  proportion  as 
his  mind  is  diverted  from  the  first  essentials  of  his  art 
will  be  the  liability  of  undoing  the  work  already  ac- 
complished. Add  to  this  the  probablity  of  association, 
in  chorus  work,  with  those  whose  methods  are  incorrect ; 
for  the  contagion  of  bad  example  is  often  mischievous. 
The  liability  of  retarding  one's  progress  through  such 
influence,  and  the  ability  to  guard  against  the  adverse 
conditions  of  general  chorus  practice,  are  matters  of  con- 

120 


RAMBLES     IN    MUSIC-LAND 

sideration  whose  importance  varies  with  the  individual, 
so  that  no  general  rule  can  be  laid  down.  The  judg- 
ment of  a  competent  teacher  is  the  best  guide.  The 
compensation  for  such  work  is  sometimes  an  important 
feature  of  the  case,  and  this  will  only  make  a  difficult 
problem  still  more  difficult.  The  most  fragile  instru- 
ment in  the  world  is  the  voice;  it  may  be  injured,  and 
yet  recover;  ruin  it,  and  it  is  not  only  beyond  repair, 
but  it  cannot,  like  other  instruments,  be  replaced.  The 
responsibility  of  a  vocal  teacher  is  scarcely  less  than  that 
of  a  physician. 

The  foregoing  presents  fairly  well  the  main  objection 
to  mingling  in  chorus-practice  in  the  earlier  stages  of 
voice  culture. 

:  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  much  to  be  said  in  favor 
of  systematic  choral  practice,  when  the  conditions  re- 
ferred to  above  will  admit  of  it.  Everything  that  will 
increase  a  singer's  musicianship  is  very  desirable,  for  it 
is  a  deplorable  fact  that  singers,  as  a  class,  are,  of  all 
musicians,  the  most  illiterate  in  the  art,  seldom  knowing 
anything  but  their  own  little  part,  and  generally  without 
a  supreme  mastery  even  of  that  —  in  street  parlance, 
doing  business  on  less  capital  than  any  one  else  in  the 
trade;  and  what  many  a  vocal  teacher  does  not  know 
of  his  art  would  fill  a  dozen  encyclopedias.  I  once  had 
a  soloist  in  my  choir  who  was  also  a  teacher  of  repute  in 
New  York  City.  He  sang  at  fashionable  functions,  had 
a  wealthy  clientele,  a  beautiful  studio,  and,  from  necktie 
to  boots,  possessed  all  the  external  signs  of  a  true  artist. 
One  Sunday  before  church  we  were  discussing  musical 
matters,  when  the  subject  of  the  vocal  cords  was  touched 

121 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 

upon.  Turning  to  me,  with  all  seriousness  he  pro- 
pounded this  amazing  question:  **Does  what  we  eat  go 
through  the  vocal  cords?'* 

I  think  he  still  has  a  studio  up-town. 

Among  the  chief  advantages  of  concerted  practice, 
with  the  proviso  of  a  competent  drill  master,  is  the  cul- 
tivation of  rigid  tempo,  in  which  most  singers  are  sadly 
deficient.  Exact  rhythm  is  the  most  mechanical  and 
the  most  unemotional  feature  of  the  art,  but  it  gives 
distinct  structural  outline  and  virility  to  the  entire  com- 
position; and  the  failure  to  adhere,  in  the  main,  to 
mathematical  precision,  in  the  rhythmical  swing  of  a 
composition,  tends  to  make  the  rendering  limp,  inverte- 
brate, characterless.  The  listener,  whether  more  or  less 
musical,  feels  the  effect,  though  he  may  not  be  distinctly 
conscious  of  the  reason.  Solo  work,  unassociated  with 
ensemble  work,  has  a  demoralizing  influence  in  this 
matter.  As  soloist,  responsible  to  no  one,  supported  by 
an  accompaniment  that  is  ever  to  be  subordinate  to  him- 
self, he  naturally  becomes  a  law  unto  himself,  and,  unless 
a  great  artist,  trifles  more  or  less  with  even  the  fixed 
principles  of  his  art.  In  his  freedom  of  interpretation, 
he  is  at  all  times  able  to  deviate  from  mechanical  exact- 
ness of  tempo,  which,  when  occasion  calls  for  it,  is  the 
necessary  thing  to  do.  But,  in  well  written  compo- 
sitions, the  occasions  are  rare  where  the  meaning  of  the 
music  requires  liberties  in  tempo,  and  it  too  often  happens 
that  even  an  aftist  yields  to  a  meaningless  impulse  to 
disturb  the  steady  movement  of  the  piece,  and  especially 
will  indulge  in  rallentando  with  such  frequency  that  it 
becomes  a  conventional  habit,  which  destroys  much  of 

122 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

its  fine  effect  when  really  legitimate.  A  rallentando  is 
the  easiest  method  of  simulating  sentiment,  and  seems  to 
be  the  principal  stock  in  trade,  with  some  performers, 
both  vocal  and  instrumental.  This  disease  —  for  it  is 
nothing  else  —  is  counteracted  to  a  considerable  degree 
in  ensemble  work;  and  one  of  the  greatest  advantages  of 
concerted  singing  is,  to  inspire  a  proper  respect  for  strict 
tempo. 

Church  chorus  singing  also  acquaints  the  young  stu- 
dent with  a  more  serious  side  of  the  art  than  is  gained 
in  secular  or  operatic  work.  There  is  very  much  of  our 
present  church  music  that  falls  far  below  the  proper 
standard,  yet  even  with  this  subtraction,  the  discipline 
in  this  branch  of  music  will  be  profitable  for  all  young 
singers,  in  its  more  sostenuto  style  of  rendering,  which  is 
characteristic  of  all  church  music,  even  the  most  shallow. 
Even  the  simplicity  of  such  compositions,  as  compared 
with  the  greater  brilliancy  of  secular  music,  will  quickly 
expose  certain  deficiencies  in  vocal  technique:  and  con- 
fessedly an  oratorio  aria  demands  a  breadth  of  style  and 
a  repose  of  execution  that  would  be  found  lacking  in 
many  an  operatic  artist  of  the  highest  repute. 

We  will  refer  to  one  more  advantage  derived  from 
such  practice  by  all  young  singers,  viz.,  the  greater  fa- 
cility in  reading  music,  which  cannot  fail  to  be  acquired 
in  any  choir  whose  repertoire  is  being  constantly  enlarged 
by  the  use  of  new  compositions.  One  of  the  most  fatal  de- 
ficiencies of  singers,  as  a  class,  is  their  inability  to  read. 
They  are  so  absorbed  in  tone-production  that  they  find 
little  interest  in  any  other  side  of  the  art,  and  seem  un- 
able to  realize  the  significance  of  a  knowledge  of  the  rudi- 

123 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

ments  of  music,  and  of  the  ability  to  read,  as  related  to 
their  future  success  as  vocalists.  A  vocal  teacher  once 
told  me  that  if  he  attempted  to  make  his  pupils  learn  to 
read  they  would  all  leave  him.  This  explains  the  fact 
that  out  of  a  hundred  singers  who  can  sing  a  song  prettily 
in  the  parlor  to  a  company  of  friends,  and  may  even 
be  valuable  members  of  choral  societies,  or  even  of  fine 
church  choirs,  probably  not  more  than  one  will  rise  to 
the  distinction  of  being  a  distinguished  soloist  either  in 
church  or  elsewhere.  The  necessary  quality  of  voice  for 
such  distinction  is  of  course  presupposed ;  but  quality  of 
voice  is  not  so  exclusively  the  necessary  element  in  the 
outfit  of  a  vocal  artist  as  many  suppose;  and  that  lack 
in  the  temperament  of  young  singers  which  allows  them 
to  drift  along  without  laying  a  solid  foundation  for  great 
work,  is  really  the  barrier  that  thwarts  the  aspirations 
of  the  multitude  of  fine  voices  that  leave  no  mark  upon 
the  public  mind.  The  voice  is  the  instrument,  but  be- 
hind the  instrument  is  the  mentality  of  its  possessor, 
and  that  mentality  infuses  a  certain  potent  quality  into 
the  voice,  and  a  something  that  is  equally  potent  into 
the  control  of  the  voice,  that  gives  a  masterly  stamp  to 
the  rendition,  and  raises  the  performer  to  the  rank  of 
a  true  artist. 


124 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


The  Limitations  of  Harmony 

^^jy^IS  study  alone  will  never  make  one  a  composer, 
I  I  L  notwithstanding  all  the  advantage  accruing  from 
^■^  it  when  properly  pursued.  This  fact  often  brings 
disappointment  to  the  pupil,  who,  as  he  compares  his 
most  accurately  written  exercises  with  actual  composi- 
tions, is  surprised  to  find  so  many  things  allowed,  which 
he  has  been  strictly  forbidden  to  do,  and  is  in  doubt 
whether  his  teacher  has  been  at  fault,  or  whether  the 
entire  system  is  erroneous. 

He  may  feel  assured  that  "the  system,"  as  far  as  it 
goes,  is  correct;  but  he  must  understand  that  the  scope 
of  Harmony,  though  it  affords  the  most  fundamental 
principles  of  the  art,  is  not  broad  enough  to  consider 
numerous  requirements  in  actual  composition.  In  a 
word,  it  is  the  difference  between  foundation  and  super- 
structure ;  and  while  foundation- work  is  amply  sufficient 
for  the  mastery  of  chords  in  their  construction,  con- 
nection and  meaning,  it  teaches  nothing  beyond  this. 

In  the  following  example,  what  does  the  student  find, 
as  compared  with  what  he  has  been  taught  to  do,  and 
what  he  has  been  doing  most  conscientiously? 
Moderato 


-^ 
^ 


PB^ 


125 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


M^'rMP^ 


s^c  ^  r  T 


_L  r 


f 


HU 


5^ 


^^i 


^W 


1^ 


:.t=t 


ii4i-i^  f  ^  ^ 


^~- —  cresc. 


•« •! 


^s 


PedT^ 


9 


^ 


I     Adagio,     I 


ei^ 


4 


X     1 


-<s- 


^^ 


^ 


^.  e 


I      IP'^^^         l_|^f 


/V</. 


/Vf^. 


■^       =}: 


126 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Much  that  he  has  been  forbidden  to  do,  and  much 
that  has  been  completely  ignored.  Parallel  octaves  he 
has  been  taught  to  consider  a  sin,  but  they  are  here; 
four-part  harmony  all  of  the  time,  but  this  example  is 
perfectly  lawless  in  that  respect.  ^'Crescendo,  acceler- 
ando, adagio,  a  hold,  a  rest  —  if  all  these  things  are  cor- 
rect," he  says  to  himself,  "why  have  I  had  no  instruction 
as  to  their  use?  And  if  I  cannot  apply  my  rules  of  har- 
mony in  the  criticism  of  actual  composition,  of  what  use 
are  the  rules,  and  to  what  end  has  been  all  my  laborious 
study?  I  have  had  no  musical  effect  from  my  carefully 
written  exercises,  but  when  my  rules  are  thrown  to  the 
winds,  as  they  seem  to  be  here,  I  find  something  to  en- 
joy, something  that  sounds  like  music.  Have  I  not  been 
wasting  my  time  in  learning  to  do  what  I  find  so  little  use 
for,  when  I  enter  the  realm  of  actual  composition?"  He 
is  not  to  be  blamed  for  having  such  thoughts,  but  his 
teacher  is  much  to  be  blamed  if  he  has  left  the  pupil  in 
ignorance  of  the  purpose  of  harmony  and  its  limitations. 
As  commonly  taught,  there  is  an  immense  gap  between 
the  province  covered  by  theoretical  study,  even  though 
that  include  counterpoint  and  fugue,  and  the  realm  in 
which  the  young  composer  finds  himself  in  his  efforts  at 
composition  in  the  so-called  "free  style,"  and  he  is 
mostly  left  to  himself  to  bridge  that  gap  as  best  he  may. 
Musical  instinct  and  the  observation  of  what  he  finds 
in  actual  compositions,  combined  with  a  large  amount 
of  perseverance,  bring  a  small  per  cent,  of  pupils  to  their 
desired  goal,  but  their  task  is  more  laborious  and  dis- 
heartening than  it  would  be  if  theoretical  study  covered 
the  ground  more  thoroughly  than  it  does  at  present. 

127 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Harmony  may  be  called  narrow  in  its  view;  and  it 
has  indeed  all  the  narrowness  of  mere  foundation  and 
frame- work:  and  a  structure  that  has  only  these  is  both 
unsightly  and  useless;  on  the  other  hand,  however,  all 
the  possible  devices  of  architectural  utility  and  adorn- 
ment are  impossible  ".without  the  logical  antecedents  of 
firm  support  and  rigid  outline.  It  is  in  the  more  sys- 
tematic study  of  the  various  ways  of  completing  the  su- 
perstructure in  tonal  architecture  that  our  present  meth- 
ods of  theoretical  training  are  deficient. 

The  skill  of  the  most  proficient  harmony  student 
would  fit  him  only  for  a  style  of  composition  that  would 
hardly  exceed  the  length  of  an  eight-lined  choral,  which 
could  rarely  be  maintained  with  best  effect  even  to  that 
extent.  The  resources  of  the  art  are  taxed  to  the  ut- 
most for  needful  variety  in  prolonged  composition.  The 
ear  is  soon  satiated  by  an  unvaried  fulness  of  harmony; 
and  while  the  four- toned  chord  is  normal  for  the  major 
part  of  the  composition,  its  uninterrupted  continuance 
would  be  disastrous  even  in  the  hands  of  the  ablest 
composer. 

The  silences  of  music  are  indeed  golden;  but  what  has 
harmony  to  do  with  silence?  The  bold  sweep  of  octave 
passages,  vocal  and  instrumental,  so  novel  and  restful 
to  the  ear,  may  even  constitute  the  climax  of  a  work; 
but  what  has  harmony  to  do  with  mere  octaves,  which 
might  be  characterized  as  brilliant  unisons?  Duets  and 
trios,  too,  are  delfghtful  —  airy  and  graceful  in  their  less 
intricate  texture  and  their  fuller  freedom  of  movement, 
and  no  extended  work  can  dispense  with  the  pleasurable 
relief  of  these  more  delicate  effects.     But  what  account 

128 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

of  the  impoverishment  of  full  harmony  can  be  taken 
from  the  single  view-point  of  this  study?  It  is  no 
criticism  of  all  these  artistic  resources  of  the  composer 
that  the  specific  province  of  Harmony  knows  nothing  of 
them.  They  are  as  foreign  to  its  purpose  as  are  the  sub- 
jects of  Musical  Form,  or  of  Orchestration.  The  student, 
properly  instructed,  will  be  led  to  feel  more  and  more 
both  the  tremendous  scope,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
distinct  limitations  of  this  department  of  theory. 

The  entire  art  is  indeed  best  summarized  in  the  one 
word,  harmony.  This  is  the  pillared  nave  and  vaulted 
roof  in  the  vast  temple  of  symphony  and  melody.  But 
"architectural  form,"  and  "storied  windows  richly 
dight,"  embellishment,  variety  and  grace  of  every  sort 
must  not  be  lacking  to  complete  the  edifice,  and  make 
it  worthy  of  the  lofty  place  it  is  to  fill  in  every  soul  — 
its  art-companion  through  eternity. 


129 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


The  Relation  of  the  Auxiliary  to  the 
Fundamental  Chords 

^^HK  "fundamental  chords"  —  the  harmonic  basis 
ilL  of  all  music  —  are  very  few.  They  comprise  sim- 
^^  ply  the  ** common  chord"  and  the  chord  of  the 
seventh,  founded  on  every  degree  of  the  scale.  In  the 
common  chord  there  are  but  three  diverse  elements, 
which  are  those  of  the  common  triad,  formed  by  add- 
ing to  any  tone  its  third  and  fifth.  The  reduplication 
of  these  intervals,  through  any  number  of  octaves,  am- 
plifies the  harmony,  but  adds  no  distinctive  feature,  and 
the  entire  group  forms  simply  the  common  chord  on 
that  particular  tone  of  the  scale. 


Triad  of  C 
n-9- 

Chord  of  C 

1 W n 

1}^==== 

=^ 

W — J. 

1 

'^        1 

9. 

I  -       H 

Thus,  the  seven  common  triads  constitute  the  broad 
base  for  all  harmonic  composition.  Whether  it  always 
will  be  so  is  quite  another  matter.  We  do  not  treat 
harmony  as  a  philosophy,  but  as  a  system  of  present 
facts,  as  a  means  of  bringing  a  pupil  to  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  usable  harmonies,  setting  aside  all  ab- 
stractions as  irrelevant  to  the  main  issue. 

130 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

These  seven  triads  in  their  formation  show  a  common 
nature,  and,  at  the  same  time,  much  variation,  result- 
ing from  their  scale  location  and  inter-relations,  which 
afford  wide  diversity  of  coloring  in  chords  which  are 
recognized  as  having  one  essential  nature. 

Impossible  as  it  would  be  to  produce  a  lengthy  com- 
position in  the  exclusive  use  of  these  basal  harmonies, 
they  are  still  not  only  the  frame-work  of  all  musical 
structure,  but  their  masterly  use  expresses  the  pro- 
foundest  thought  that  is  possible  in  the  art;  and  when- 
ever a  musical  idea  shows  peculiar  force  and  virility,  or 
special  simplicity  and  tenderness,  analysis  reveals  that 
through  the  veil  of  ornamentation,  the  strength  and 
depth  of  these  familiar  chords  is  making  itself  especially 
evident.  The  transparency  —  ease  of  comprehension 
—  of  all  composition  depends  upon  the  evident  con- 
tinuous under-current  of  these  foundation  harmonies; 
and  the  best  service  that  any  Harmony  teacher  can 
render  to  his  pupils  is  to  inspire  in  them  a  proper  ad- 
miration for  these  primal  tone-groups,  simple  and  en- 
during, which,  despite  their  triteness,  are  the  most  force- 
ful words  in  the  entire  vocabulary  of  the  art.  For  this 
purpose  let  him  play  to  them  the  strongest  passages  in 
the  masterpieces  of  Beethoven,  Mozart  and  Handel, 
which  retain  an  undiminished  hold  upon  the  popular 
heart,  and  show  how  these  bed-rock  harmonies  come  to 
the  surface  perennially  fresh  and  vigorous,  ever  satisfy- 
ing to  a  healthy  musical  appetite;  and  whoever  fails  to 
make  them  strongly  conspicuous  in  the  texture  of  his 
writing  may  indeed  win  a  temporary  applause  for 
brilliancy  or  novelty,  but  his  thought  will  show  little 

131 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

depth  and  seriousness,  and  will  enjoy  only  a  passing 
popularity.  Every  season's  concert  programs  witness 
the  birth  and  burial  of  "novelties"  whose  composers 
have  ignored  the  fundamentals  and  expatiated  in  the 
embellishments  of  their  art.  Every  discussion  of  har- 
monic construction  properly  begins  with  a  eulogy  of 
the  "common  chords." 

Making  a  numerical  estimate  of  our  resources  in 
fundamental  harmonies,  we  find  that  the  seven  com- 
mon chords,  each  with  two  inversions,  and  the  seven 
chords-of-the-seventh,  each  with  three  inversions,  us- 
ing exclusively  the  proper  tones  of  the  scale,  afford 
us  a  vocabulary  of  forty-nine  tone-groups,  or  music 
words. 

It  is  with  the  formation  and  proper  connection  of  these 
that  Harmony  instruction  has  hitherto  been  chiefly 
concerned.  It  is  indeed  no  small  accomplishment  to 
recognize  and  to  connect  correctly  all  this  variety  of 
basal  groups  in  the  multifarious  relations  in  which  they 
stand  in  a  flow  of  harmonies.  Yet  with  no  retraction 
of  the  importance  that  we  have  assigned  to  these  foun- 
dation chords  in  view  of  their  strength,  beauty  and 
simplicity,  they  are  by  no  means  adequate  for  all  the 
delicate  harmonic  refinements  of  art-expression  which 
require  countless  subsidiary  touches  of  color,  of  them- 
selves in  a  sense  trivial,  except  as  they  are  used  as  legiti- 
mate embellishment  of  the  more  rugged  and  substantial 
elements  of  the  harmonic  fabric.  The  pupil's  task, 
then,  is  far  from  completed;  and,  if  his  previous  work 
has  been  thorough,  he  is  now  to  enter  upon  the  most 
enjoyable  portion  of  his  harmonic  drill. 

132 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

All  of  the  subsidiary,  decorative  effects  of  which  we 
have  spoken  are  by  means  of  what  are  called  auxiliary 
chords  or  auxiliary  tones;  and  it  is  our  purpose  to  show 
how  they  stand  related  to  the  fundamental  chords,  and 
how  the  latter  form  the  frame-work  or  skeleton  of  all 
transparent  and  coherent  music.  It  is  a  matter  of 
surprise  that  hitherto  so  little  pains  have  been  taken, 
in  text-books  of  Harmony,  to  present  to  the  pupil  an 
adequate  and  systematic  view  of  these  multitudinous 
and  essential  chord  effects,  with  a  clear  explanation  of 
the  way  in  which  they  stand  related  to  the  ground- 
harmonies  of  music,  and  to  furnish  such  exercises  as 
will  afford  facility  in  their  use.  For  the  most  part  the 
pupil  has  been  left  to  shift  for  himself  at  this  point  of 
the  work.  His  musical  insight,  with,  perhaps,  an  apti- 
tude for  improvising,  may  have  accustomed  him  to  their 
effects,  without  distinctly  understanding  their  nature 
or  their  accurate  use;  and  in  the  drill  of  counterpoint 
and  fugue  he  insensibly  acquires  what  he  should  have 
learned  in  Harmony,  and  in  the  ignorance  of  which  his 
earlier  work  in  both  of  these  advanced  studies  was  ex- 
tremely crude  and  unmusical. 

In  the  limits  of  this  essay  it  is  plainly  impossible  to 
prescribe  the  necessary  scheme  of  study  for  the  mastery 
of  the  auxiliary  chords  —  indeed,  their  full  mastery  is 
the  matter  of  a  lifetime  —  but  it  is  possible  to  explain 
their  nature,  to  show  how  they  stand  related  to  the 
fundamental  chords,  and  so  to  classify  them  that  one 
can  see  by  what  process  he  is  to  learn  to  embellish,  by 
their  means,  the  ground  harmonies. 

Every  tone,  not  an  element  of  a  fundamental  chord, 

133 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

is  an  auxiliary  tone.  As  such,  it  stands  in  discordant 
relation  to  the  chord  in  which  it  occurs,  for  the  fun- 
damental chord  contains  all  the  tones  concordant  with  it. 
The  discordance  of  the  foreign  element  is  of  varying 
degree;  and  our  method  of  classifying  the  auxiliary 
tones  is  according  to  the  degree  of  discordance.  All 
students  in  this  subject  understand  that  a  discord  is 
softened  by  having  the  tone  that  produces  it  heard  in 
the  preceding  chord;  as  in  the  chord-of-the-seventh  in 
which  the  seventh  is  to  be  ''prepared,"  i.e.,  heard  in  the 
preceding  chord.  (Text-books  say  the  "seventh  is  pre- 
pared"—  properly  speaking,  it  is  the  ear  that  is  pre- 
pared.) It  is  also  the  rule  that  the  seventh  shall  be 
"resolved,"  i.e.j  descend  one  degree  into  the  next  chord. 
We  have  thus  recalled  the  rules  controlling  the  seventh- 
chord,  since  they  are  applicable  in  some  degree  in  the 
auxiliary  chords,  especially  the  rule  of  resolving  by  one 
degree,  which  is  the  demand  of  all  discords.  And  our 
first  class  of  auxiliary  chords  are  those  in  which  the  dis- 
cordant element  has  been  heard  in  the  preceding  chord, 
and  is  therefore  the  least  conspicuous  that  it  is  possible 
for  a  foreign  tone  to  be.  We  have  herein,  also,  the 
least  departure  possible  from  purely  fundamental 
chords,  inasmuch  as  the  foreign  tone  was  an  element  of 
the  preceding  chord.  The  following  shows  the  foreign 
tone,  C,  first  as  belonging  to  the  preceding  chord,  and, 
secondly,  as  not  heard  in  the  chord  before,  and  it  will 
be  seen  at  once  that  it  makes  itself  more  conspicuous  in 
the  second  case : 

I 
134 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


m 


(a) 


(i 


-s^ 


(b) 


:^ 


i 


Our  first  group  of  auxiliary  chords,  then,  are  those  of 
which  we  have  an  example  at  (a)  above,  the  discordance 
being  as  little  noticeable  as  possible;  and  all  such  are 
called  "suspension  chords"  — the  tone  being  sus- 
pended, or  held  over,  and  then,  as  in  the  discord  of  the 
seventh,  resolved. 

Double  suspensions  are  also  of  not  infrequent  occur- 
rence, and  rarely  one  meets  a  triple  suspension.  This 
class  of  chords  being  of  constant  use,  for  their  great 
variety  of  discordant  effects,  the  student  needs  an  in- 
timate acquaintance  with  them,  such  as  can  only  be 
derived  from  practical  exercises.  The  mere  text-book 
discussion  of  any  matter  in  Harmony  leaves  little  im- 
pression, unless  enforced  by  immediate  application. 
The  following  simply  illustrates  how  the  same  suspension 
occurs  in  the  different  inversions  of  a  chord : 


Suspension  of  the  ninth. 


^ \-<^ U 


i 


^ 


^ 


f- 


^i 


in  fundamental 
position. 


r^ 


in  first 
inversion. 


in  second 
inversion. 


135 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

More  discordant  than  the  foregoing  group  of  auxiliary- 
chords  are  those  with  a  freely  entering  foreign  tone,  i.e.f 
not  prepared  by  having  been  heard  in  the  previous 
chord;  and  in  all  these  remaining  chords,  which  are  in 
countless  numbers,  as  they  afford  the  great  proportion 
of  all  auxiliary  effects,  we  shall  find  distinct  degrees  of 
discordance,  so  that  they  may  be  easily  classified  into 
four  groups. 

The  foreign  element,  whose  discordance  with  a  fun- 
damental chord  is  the  least  conspicuous  possible,  is 
called  the  "passing  tone,"  which  fills  the  interval  be- 
tween two  fundamental  tones  in  successive  chords. 


i 


± 


fes 


e 


2 


^-Hg 


^=F 


£ 


(I 


:£ 


-<22_ 


m 


Jill 


^ 


U- 


ri- 


^ 


^-^ 


J  Same  with     passing  tones  " 


-(5^ 


is: 


f=f 


The  occurrence  of  the  passing  tone  on  the  unaccented 
beat  produces  the  minimum  of  discordance.    As  a  rule, 

136 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


there  is  but  a  single  tone  thus  intervening,  but  oc- 
casionally there  may  be  two,  thus: 


w 


•-<§- 


i 


J 


i-J- 


'         I         I         I 

X  X 

The  same  effect  of  a  "passing  tone,"  but  accented,  is 
illustrated  in  the  following,  wherein  the  accent  gives 
more  prominence  to  the  discord,  and  affords  desirable 
variety.     Either  sort  by  itself  becomes  monotonous: 


m 


^=H 


u 


* 


g^ 


:s: 


(s 


-&' 


5=1 


i 


1^=9 


-f^ 


-©"- 


The  mingling  of  the  two  kinds  produces  an  equally 
flowing  effect,  and  is  far  more  elegant  and  musicianly: 


^zjft^jMjJ.li^-^ 


frr  ir[r  'r 


137 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 


These  two  sorts  of  foreign  tones  are  alike  in  the  fact 
that  they  make  a  diatonic  progression  from  the  tone 
preceding,  and  are  thus  the  least  obtrusive  possible;  but 
we  now  come  to  the  third  species,  in  which  the  voice 
jumps  by  some  interval  to  the  foreign  tone,  then  mov- 
ing from  it  by  one  degree  to  the  harmonic  tone  of  the  next 
chord;  the  interval  of  the  leap  may  be  of  any  size 
within  the  octave: 


(Bi^ 


rrr^j 


^ 


t7 


I 


# 


m 


Sr 


■ny- 


In  this  third  sort,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  foreign  tone 
occurs  on  the  unaccented  beat,  which  diminishes  its 
prominence;  but  a  stronger  discordance  is  produced 
when  the  foreign  tone  is  accented,  thus: 


^^ 


u^tn 


-^ 


r=^=T 


f 


(i^g 


^ 


^ 


«=<- 


p 


r 


In  this  fourth  sort  there  is  quite  a  resemblance  to  the 
effect  of  a  suspension,  the  difference  being  that  there  is 
no  preparation  of  the  foreign  tone  by  being  heard  in 
the  previous  chord. 

138 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


Prepared 


i 


1,11 


Pf 


^^ 


r 


(i 


J — ^ 


iJ_^ 


? 


^^ 


Not  prepared 


^ 


:^ 


4=1 


^ 


F 


(^ 


J- 


_J  -^  - 


r 


r 


There  is  a  very  pleasing  variety  of  effect  in  the  dis- 
cordance by  introducing  it  in  these  four  ways,  which 
may  be  summarized  thus; 

passing,  unaccented, 

passing,  accented, 

by  a  leap,  unaccented, 

by  a  leap,  accented, 
and  there  is  rarely  a  tone  foreign  to  the  fundamental 
harmony  which  is  taken  otherwise  than  in  one  of  these 
four  ways.  Very  exceptionally  the  voice  moves  to  an 
adjacent  foreign  tone,  and  then  leaps  to  a  harmonic 
tone,  thus:  I     1 


139 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


By  commingling  these  four  sorts  of  foreign  tones  in 
two  or  more  voices  simultaneously  we  gain  a  limitless 
variety  of  auxiliary  chords,  embellishing  to  the  highest 
degree  the  simple  flow  of  underlying  fundamental  har- 
monies, yet  always  showing  their  subsidiary  relation, 
and,  if  properly  introduced,  not  blurring  the  impression 
of  the  basal  chords. 


i 


Jii^^^iJJ^ 


■^'i*  ' 


^ 


f 


f 


-i 


1 — r 


^      \^      ^      \r^        i   — +t- 


^=?"^r~^ 


m 


-<s- 


gj      -H"~=f 


-^ — ^    '  ^ 


basal  harmonies  of  the  above 


f  if     t 


9^^^— T^^^ 


li^^^^P 


(I 


I 


1^ 


I 


140 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 


i 


-^ 


-zr 


F 


(i 


i 


-!5>- 


As  a  rule  the  foreign  tones  are  shorter  in  proportion 
as  their  discordance  is  more  emphatic;  a  suspension 
discord  may  often  be  a  half  note,  but  a  foreign  tone 
taken  by  a  leap,  whether  accented  or  unaccented,  would 
be  unendurable  if  so  prolonged;  relatively  such  tones 
would  be  eighths  or  sixteenths. 

With  a  reasonable  amount  of  skill  in  these  embellish- 
ing chords,  one  can  take  up  the  study  of  Counterpoint 
with  distinct  pleasure  and  success;  but  if  he  has  fluency 
in  fundamental  harmonies  only,  his  exercises  in  the 
higher  branches  of  theory  will  be  laborious  and  ex- 
tremely crude.  He  will  not  have  mastered  the  art  of 
making  the  several  voices  of  the  harmony  flowing  and 
distinctive,  his  chord-progressions  will  be  stiff  and  un- 
wieldy, and  it  will  be  only  with  long  patience  and  much 
discouragement  that  he  will  gain  that  freedom  and 
musicianly  effect  that  would  have  been  attained  with 
so  much  greater  ease  and  enjoyment  by  a  progressive 
and  systematic  study  of  the  auxiliary  chords  in  their 
proper  place  in  Harmony. 


141 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


The  Relation  of  Choir  Singers  to  the  Church 

^^JTHE  charge  is  sometimes  brought  against  choir  sing- 
IlL  ers  that  they  do  not  enter  at  all  into  the  interests 
^^  of  the  church  which  employs  them;  that  they 
show  a  very  discreditable  mercenary  spirit,  working  only 
for  the  stipulated  salary,  and  averse  to  rendering  any 
gratuitous  service,  either  religious  or  secular,  which  in 
some  churches  it  is  thought  incumbent  upon  them  to  ren- 
der. It  is  certainly  an  unpleasant  surprise  to  the  major- 
ity of  paid  singers  to  be  asked  to  do  anything  more  than 
is  distinctly  specified  in  the  bond,  and  they  commonly 
feel  entitled  to  extra  compensation  for  every  ounce  of 
effort  that  is  not  involved  in  the  original  contract;  yet 
there  are  instances  where  they  have  willingly,  or  at  least 
with  politic  acquiescence,  yielded  to  requests  for  pro- 
fessional service  without  remuneration.  But  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  singers,  especially  in  city  churches, 
regard  their  connection  with  the  church  from  a  purely 
pecuniary  standpoint,  and  consider  it  a  mild  impo- 
sition to  be  asked  to  render  any  service  gratuitously. 

This  is  certainly  not  the  ideal  relation  to  exist  be- 
tween the  church  and  those  on  whom  depends  the  suc- 
cess of  a  very  important  part  of  the  service.  While  the 
laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire,  as  much  in  singing  as  in 
preaching,  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  work  of  the  church 
is  being  carried^  on  with  the  utmost  possible  efficiency, 
when  there  is  such  a  distinct  feeling,  both  in  the  con- 
gregation and  in  the  choir,  that  the  latter  are  simply  a 
body  of  hirelings  imported  into  the  church,  sometimes 

142 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

so  unsympathetic  with  the  purpose  of  a  worshipful 
service  as  to  make  it  seem  that  their  work  is  simply 
perfunctory  and  mercenary. 

The  criticism  for  this  state  of  things  may  be  some- 
what due  to  the  singers  themselves,  among  whom  one 
will  sometimes  be  found  who  is,  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
the  term,  a  hireling,  giving  as  little  and  getting  as  much  as 
possible,  with  neither  religious  impulse  nor  artistic 
pride  to  do  his  best  work.  But  probably  such  in- 
stances are  extremely  rare,  and  it  is  without  question 
the  ambition  and  the  effort  of  the  great  mass  of  church 
singers  to  do  their  work  conscientiously,  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  congregation,  and  with  musical  credit  to 
themselves.  But  it  cannot  be  denied  that  their  artistic 
ideals  dominate  their  performances  more  than  religious 
zeal  or  sympathy  with  their  audience.  There  is  thus 
an  estrangement  between  them  and  their  auditors 
which  puts  their  co-operation  in  the  service  upon  a 
distinctly  business  basis,  and  this  is  considered  very 
reprehensible  by  some  worthy  members  of  the  church. 

It  would  be  well  for  such  church  members  to  under- 
stand, that  in  thus  regarding  themselves  as  apart  from 
the  church  instead  of  a  part  of  the  church,  singers  are 
only  putting  the  same  estimate  upon  themselves  which 
they  have  been  taught  to  put  by  the  treatment  they  re- 
ceive from  the  church.  If  a  singer  will  leave  one  church 
for  another  from  the  lure  of  a  little  higher  salary,  does 
he  show  a  more  mercenary  spirit  than  the  choir  com- 
mittee show  in  their  engagement  of  the  singer?  Does 
not  the  singer  know  perfectly  well  that  the  only  hold  he 
has  upon  his  position  is  the  musical  satisfaction  his 

143 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

work  affords,  that  his  engagement  is  as  purely  a  business 
deal  as  any  transaction  on  Wall  Street,  and  that  he  is 
not  to  look  for  very  much  commendation  while  he  re- 
tains his  position,  but  that  as  soon  as  his  work  falls 
below  the  required  standard  he  may  speedily  expect  a 
very  practical  sort  of  criticism  by  being  dropped  at  the 
end  of  his  year?  In  this  mercantile  relation  of  singer 
and  church,  as  cold-blooded  as  that  of  the  sexton  or  of 
the  scrub  woman  who  washes  the  floor  week  by  week, 
is  there  anything  to  evoke  great  warmth  of  cordiality  in 
the  singer  toward  his  employer?  Personally  considered, 
he  is  simply  an  item  of  expense.  In  country  churches 
the  situation  is  often  different,  especially  when  the 
singer  is  originally  a  member  of  the  congregation,  with 
social  interests  that  are  a  very  distinct  sort  of  bond. 
But  in  city  churches  there  are,  as  a  rule,  no  social 
relations  whatever  between  the  choir  gallery  and  the 
pews,  and  if  by  chance  they  were  thrown  together,  the 
singer  would  often  be  made  to  feel  his  social  inequality. 
It  only  remains,  therefore,  for  the  singer  to  accept  the 
position  practically  assigned  him  by  his  audience,  and  to 
regard  himself  as  simply  a  paid  laborer,  like  a  car- 
penter or  plumber,  rather  confident  of  his  position  just 
as  long  as  he  does  good  work,  but  perfectly  aware  that 
there  is  no  sentiment  involved,  and  that,  if  not  satis- 
factory, he  may  expect  as  cool  a  dismissal  as  a  kitchen 
servant.  It  must  be  understood,  then,  that  singers  find 
their  chief  satisfaction  in  their  art  and  their  salary. 
But  they  are  also  extremely  appreciative  of  approval, 
and  a  word  now  and  then  from  the  audience  or  the 
pastor  is  gratefully  received,  and  is  an  added  impulse 

144 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

to  good  service.  Yet  such  expression  of  approval  is  so 
rare  that  it  usually  creates  unfeigned  surprise  in  the 
recipient.  As  some  singers  look  down  into  the  devout 
faces  of  the  congregation,  it  is  little  wonder  if  an  oc- 
casional thought  of  hypocrisy  flits  through  their  mind; 
and  this  may  have  been  true  in  the  case  of  the  parent 
whose  child  was  asked  if  his  father  was  a  Christian. 
**0h,  no!"  he  replied,  in  surprise,  "he  sings  in  the  choir.'* 

An  incident  that  once  came  to  my  notice  illustrates 
this  entire  matter  better  than  whole  pages  of  generalities. 
A  prominent  and  most  effective  soloist,  conscientious  to 
the  last  degree,  and  highly  artistic,  was  for  many  years 
employed  in  one  of  our  prominent  city  churches.  His 
salary  was  small,  although  a  line  of  millionaires  were 
sitting  at  the  head  of  their  pews  in  the  center  aisle. 
The  members  of  the  music  committee  and  those  in  the 
congregation  who  knew  the  disparity  between  his  work 
and  his  wages  —  no  unusual  circumstance  —  were  fre- 
quently congratulating  themselves  that  they  were  able 
to  retain  one  who  was  so  universally  popular,  and  they 
were  fearful,  from  year  to  year,  that  they  would  lose 
him. 

At  last  he  received  a  handsome  offer  from  another 
church,  and  as  it  was  in  every  way  to  his  advantage  to 
accept  it,  he  did  so,  although  regretfully.  It  was  to  be 
expected  that  common  courtesy,  if  not  the  impulse  of 
Christian  politeness,  would  have  prompted  the  music 
committee  to  give  him  a  word  of  farewell,  and  to  ex- 
press to  him  their  regret  that,  after  his  eminently  satis- 
factory and  poorly  remunerated  service,  he  was  to  leave 
them.    But  this  was  not  their  attitude  at  all.    They  felt 

145 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

they  had  lost  a  good  bargain,  and  greatly  regretted  it; 
but  as  for  taking  the  trouble  to  speak  to  him,  or  as  for 
wasting  a  two-cent  stamp  in  writing  their  regrets  — 
they  might  have  done  it  on  a  postal  card  —  that  was 
quite  out  of  the  question.  Having  gotten  out  of  him 
all  they  could,  why  should  they  pay  him  any  more  at- 
tention? And  so  they  remained  consistently  selfish  to 
the  last.  Can  that  singer  be  expected  to  entertain 
cordial  sentiments  for  the  church  he  works  for,  when  he 
knows  that  it  is  simply  the  voices  not  the  singery  that 
they  care  anything  for?  A  singer  is  apparently  an  in- 
strument,  not  dc  person. 

This  being  'the  situation,  the  church  cannot  blame 
the  singer  for  regarding  his  position  as  simply  a  means 
of  livelihood,  a  connection  to  be  severed  just  as  soon  as 
a  better  position  offers. 

From  policy,  if  from  no  higher  motive,  it  would  be 
well  that  more  of  a  personal  interest  were  shown  in  the 
members  of  our  choirs,  and  more  approval  manifested 
for  faithful  work;  for,  as  a  rule,  they  fulfill  their  task 
from  year  to  year  with  little  more  evidence  than  what 
is  inferred  from  silence  that  their  labors  are  satisfactory. 
This  general  neglect  may  be  due  to  indifference,  or  it 
may  be  prompted  by  fear  that  assurance  of  their  success 
might  induce  them  to  strike  for  a  little  higher  salary! 
In  too  many  cases  the  singer*s  task  is  such  a  thankless 
one  that  it  is  no  wonder  that  they  regard  the  church  as  a 
strict  taskmaster,  from  whom  they  are  to  expect  only 
the  stipulated  pay,  and  to  whom  in  return  they  have 
no  impulse  to  contribute  anything  beyond  the  letter  of 
the  contract. 

146 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


The  Greatest  Mystery  in  the  Art 

^JTHE  most  subtle,  difficult,  and,  when  understood, 
IIL  perhaps  the  most  interesting,  detail  in  composition 
^^  is  modulation,  which,  in  text-books,  is  too  often 
treated  superficially,  or  even  presented  in  a  manner  fun- 
damentally erroneous.  The  subject  is  usually  relegated 
to  the  closing  pages  of  Harmony,  and  discussed  so  briefly 
and  vaguely  that  the  pupil  either  realizes  the  inadequacy 
of  its  treatment,  or  derives  the  comfortable  impression 
that  he  has  learned  much  more  about  it  than  is  the 
case.  It  is  in  reality  worthy  of  a  short  treatise  de- 
voted to  its  exposition,  rather  than  to  be  passed  over 
so  superficially  that  the  pupil  is  left  to  grope  his  way, 
in  its  use,  by  the  uncertain  light  of  an  uncultivated 
instinct. 

A  full  treatment  of  the  subject  would  be  out  of  place 
in  these  pages :  we  can  call  attention  to  only  a  few  of  its 
most  interesting  features:  but  the  further  one  explores 
the  matter,  the  more  wonderful  it  appears,  and  the  more 
sensitive,  too,  his  ear  will  become  to  the  proper  use  of 
modulation,  and  the  keener  his  enjoyment  of  a  fine 
composition  in  its  illustration  of  this  the  most  brilliant 
and  masterly  device  in  the  composer's  art. 

What  then,  in  the  first  place,  is  modulation?  The 
current  definition,  properly  understood,  is  perfectly 
accurate  —  it  is  a  change  of  scale;  but  that  phrase, 
apparently  simple  and  lucid,  conveys  but  a  scintilla  of 
all  that  is  involved  in  the  process.  One  is  likely  to 
think  of  it  as  the  mere  flitting  from  scale  to  scale  —  as 

147 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

artless  and  as  thoughtless  as  the  flitting  of  a  butterfly 
from  flower  to  flower;  never  dreaming  of  the  mental 
activity  involved,  until  he  becomes  conscious  of  what 
goes  on  in  that  wonderful  thing  we  call  our  sub-con- 
sciousness, where  the  most  remarkable  feats  of  the 
mind  are  performed,  as  if  it  were  a  power  more  master- 
ful than  ourselves. 

For  modulation  is  a  purely  mental  actj  —  not  a  change 
of  signature;  it  does  not  even  depend  upon  the  intro- 
duction of  new  tones  or  chords;  for  there  may  be  no 
suggestion  of  a  new  scale  when  foreign  tones  are  heard, 
and,  on  the  contrary,  without  a  foreign  tone,  there  may 
suddenly  be  felt  a  wonderful  change,  a  different  light  and 
atmosphere,  pervading  the  very  tones  and  chords  that 
were  just  before  sounding  in  the  old  scale,  yet  the  old 
scale  has  utterly  disappeared  —  we  have  modulated ! 

The  novice  little  dreams  of  the  magical  power  that 
can  thus  cast  a  spell  over  familiar  tones  and  harmonies, 
so  transforming  them  that  one  cannot  realize  that  they 
are  the  same.  It  is  much  the  same  as  that  hidden 
association  of  thought  that  constitutes  so  much  of  the 
intrinsic  impression  of  all  material  objects,  such  that, 
while  the  objects  themselves  remain  the  same,  inert, 
dead,  and  of  themselves  almost  meaningless,  those  airy 
things  we  call  thoughts  gather  about  them,  and,  ac- 
cording as  those  thoughts  are  grave  or  gay,  reminiscent 
of  past  pleasure  or  of  past  pain,  those  mere  masses  of 
matter  absorb  and  give  back  to  us  the  corresponding 
emotions.  The  whole  material  world  thus  absorbs  and 
gives  out  what  is  as  infinitely  more  spiritual  than  itself, 
as  the  soul  of  man  is  more  spiritual  than  his  body.     In 

148 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

the  same  way  we  shall  find  that  tones,  even  the  most 
beautiful  and  ravishing,  have  a  sort  of  material  nature 
that  absorbs  and  gives  back  something  that  is  even 
more  rare  and  refined  than  itself;  and  what  that  subtle 
and  elusive  something  is,  we  shall  discover  later  on. 

Before  proceeding  to  explain  how  we  modulate,  or 
pass  from  one  scale  to  another,  let  us  consider  another 
question,  quite  related  to  it,  but  seldom  thought  of;  a 
very  interesting  question,  too,  the  solution  of  which  is 
a  direct  help  in  answering  the  main  question;  and  that 
previous  question  is,  how  do  we  remain  in  any  scale ;  or, 
how  do  we  keep  from  modulating?  It  will  strike  many 
a  reader  as  not  only  a  very  peculiar  question,  but  as  a 
perfectly  useless  one.  But  its  answer  will  be  of  great 
assistance  in  solving  the  main  problem. 

It  is  at  once  evident  that  throughout  a  piece  of  music 
lying  in  any  scale,  the  fundamental  harmonies  are  ex- 
clusively or  almost  exclusively  those  that  belong  to  that 
scale;  that  is,  they  are  the  seven  common  chords  and  the 
seven  chords  of  the  seventh,  which,  with  their  inversions 
constitute  the  entire  harmonic  basis  of  the  composition. 
A  casual  inspection  of  these  fundamental  harmonies  will 
convince  any  fairly  musical  ear  that  they  are  not  all  of 
equal  value ;  some  are  evidently  much  more  pleasing  than 
others ;  some  show  themselves  much  stronger  than  oth- 
ers; in  whatever  light  we  look  at  them,  they  at  once 
begin,  on  analysis,  to  show  marked  differences;  so  that 
these  chords,  comparatively  few  though  they  be,  soon 
reveal  a  very  broad  and  interesting  range  of  capacity  and 
effectiveness.  The  harmony  student  will  at  once  under- 
stand the  way  in  which  they  show  their  strength  and 

149 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

weakness,  according  to  the  intervals  existing  between 
the  several  tones  of  each  chord;  and  he  will  recognize 
major  chords  as  showing  peculiar  strength,  and  the  mi- 
nor chords  as  distinctly  weaker. 

It  will  thus  be  found  that  the  most  assertive  and,  in 
a  sense,  characteristic  chords  of  any  scale  are  its  major 
chords  —  those  on  the  tonic,  on  the  dominant,  and  on 
the  sub-dominant.  These  we  may  properly  call  the 
representative  chords  of  the  scale;  and,  with  their  es- 
pecial strength,  one  would  naturally  suppose  that  they 
would  be  made  especially  prominent,  in  order  to  give 
strength  to  the  composition,  in  whatever  key  it  chanced 
to  be  written.  They  are  the  great  foundation  har- 
monies of  all  the  masterpieces  of  the  art;  and,  in  a 
less  effectual  way,  they  are  the  substructure  of  all  lesser 
music  that  is  not  outre^  and  striving,  by  various  devices 
of  eccentricity,  to  atone  for,  or  to  hide  from  view, 
the  absence  of  solid  and  sustained  musical  thought. 

It  would  be  interesting  and  convincing  to  the  reader 
to  present  illustrations  from  different  composers,  show- 
ing the  relative  amount  of  use  of  the  stronger  and  the 
weaker  chords.  Space  will  not  admit  of  more  than  one 
such,  but  we  must  first  notice  in  how  many  ways  a 
chord  can  make  itself  emphatic.  The  first  way  that 
would  suggest  itself  is  that  of  greater  frequency;  and 
it  will  be  seen,  in  the  analysis  of  compositions,  how 
distinctly  the  major  chords  outnumber  the  minor 
chords,  although, in  the  scale  they  are  in  the  minority. 

But  there  are  two  other  ways  of  being  conspicuous 
that  count  for  quite  as  much  as  that  of  numerical  pre- 
dominance.   Without  occurring  any  more  frequently, 

ISO 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


or  even  used  less  often,  one  chord  may  have  more  in- 
fluence —  may  leave  a  stronger  impression  on  the  mind. 
This  comes  from  the  fact  that  all  parts  of  the  measure 
are  not  of  equal  importance.  There  are  points  of  accent, 
of  emphasis,  and  other  points  which  the  mind  to  a  de- 
gree slurs  over  with  less  attention.  Whatever  occurs  on 
the  accented  point  makes  a  double  impression  on  the 
mind.  In  all  species  of  rhythm  that  go  under  the  ge- 
neric name  of  "double  time"  there  is  always  one,  quite 
commonly  two,  points  of  emphasis  in  the  measure,  and 
accordingly  one  or  two  points  lacking  the  emphasis: 

j^1     I  ,  I     1,-^ 


i 


:^ 


d: 


^ 


^ 


-& 


a 


^ 


-tS- 


^ 


^- 


(S 


Thus  it  is  evident  that  if  the  major  or  primary  chords 
are  no  more  numerous,  or  are  even  less  numerous,  they 
acquire  a  marked  prominence  by  occurring  at  the  points 
of  accent:  and  to  illustrate  how  the  harmonies  occurring 
on  the  accented  points  make  a  peculiarly  strong  im- 
pression on  the  mind,  play  an  entire  passage,  like  the 
following: 


151 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


and  then  play  only  the  chords  that  get  the  accent,  and 
we  find  that  we  are  really  getting  much  the  larger  part 
of  the  whole  effect  with  half  of  the  chords: 


j-^td^j 


-(2- 


^ 


& 


-<Sh 


^i=# 


g — — 


m a.     m 


In  the  other  rhythm,  called  "triple  time,*'  there  is 
one  point  of  accent  followed  by  two  unaccented  points: 
and  yet,  though  the  accents  are  less  frequent,  the  general 
current  of  the  harmony  is  felt  to  be  expressed,  very 
often,  by  simply  the  series  of  chords  that  occupy  the 
accented  positions,  as  in  the  following: 


m^tr^i^^i^ 


-^L 


i^ 


'^^M 


^ 


-<&- 


-&- 


But  there  are  other  strategic  points  whose  occupancy 
gives  special  emphasis  to  a  chord,  and  these  are  found 
in  the  structural  nature  of  a  composition,  as  regards  its 
phrasing  —  those  >  points  of  greater  significance  in  the 
thought  that  is  being  expressed.  For  a  musical  idea  is 
a  compound  affair,  as  much  so  as  an  idea  that  finds  its 
expression  in  verbal  language;  and  in  its  complexity  it 

152 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

has  its  various  subordinate,  correlated  ideas,  all  con- 
spiring to  complete  the  one  grand  and  all-embracing 
idea.  In  verbal  language  we  call  these  subordinate 
ideas  "sentences"  and  "phrases."  In  musical  language 
we  also  have  "phrases,"  which  is  a  very  common  ex- 
pression; and  we  have,  just  as  much,  musical 
"sentences,"  though  that  term  is  not  in  vogue.  In  this 
structural  aspect  of  music,  it  will  also  be  seen  how  often 
the  primary  chords  occupy  the  prominent  positions  — 
the  opening  and  closing  of  the  phrase,  and  that  point 
within  the  phrase  that  may  be  called  the  climax  of  the 
elemental  idea. 

In  short,  it  will  be  found,  if  one  will  take  the  trouble 
to  examine  passages  taken  from  different  composers, 
like  the  one  given  later,  that  in  the  three  ways  above 
cited,  the  primary  chords  are  distinctly  predominant, 
but  particularly  the  tonic  and  the  dominant  chords. 
In  theory  we  should  naturally  expect  such  prominence  of 
the  strongest  chords,  and  in  practice  we  find  the  theory 
confirmed.  Now  observe  to  what  a  discovery  this  leads 
us.  In  continuing  a  musical  composition  in  any  given 
key,  the  tonic  and  dominant  chords  are  being  con- 
stantly emphasized  in  one  way  or  another,  not  inten- 
tionally by  the  composer,  for  probably  he  has  no  sus- 
picion of  it;  doubtless  few  if  any  of  the  great  composers 
ever  analyzed  the  chord  contents  of  their  own  or  any 
other  music,  to  see  what  chords  occurred  most  frequently; 
this  reiteration  of  the  two  chords  above  named,  is  an 
unconscious  act  of  the  mind;  in  other  words,  music 
founded  on  scale  relationship  springs  naturally  into  the 
composer's   mind,    with    this   disproportionate   use   of 

153 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

chords,  and  nought  else  accords  with  his  instincts  or 
with  the  instincts  of  the  listener. 

The  hearer  sub-consciously  feels  this  due  proportion, 
and  as  long  as  it  is  maintained,  with  approximate  ex- 
actness, the  scale  remains  undisturbed  in  his  mind, 
though  he  be  utterly  unconscious  of  such  a  thing  as 
scale  or  scale-relation. 

We  are  therefore  warranted  in  saying  that  in  main- 
taining this  disproportionate  use  of  the  chords,  the  orig- 
inal scale  continues  in  force,  and  it  will  be  impossible  to 
induce  the  feeling  of  any  modulation.  We  are  therefore 
prepared  to  answer  the  question,  "How  do  we  remain 
in  any  given  scale?"  by  saying  that  it  is  by  keep- 
ing the  tonic  and  dominant  chords  of  that  scale  promi- 
nent in  the  mind  through  numerical  frequency,  by  the 
emphasis  that  comes  from  the  natural  accent  in  each 
measure,  and  by  what  we  might  call  the  structural 
accent  of  the  phrases.  Transfer  the  emphasis  to  other 
chords,  and  something  important  happens,  and  some- 
thing serious,  unless  the  matter  be  managed  artistically; 
for  the  foundation  fact  in  the  mind  of  the  listener,  so 
far  beneath  his  surface  thoughts  that  he  is  quite  una- 
ware of  it,  is  the  scale  in  which  melody  and  harmony  are 
progressing;  it  is  their  scale  relation  that  gives  them 
their  musical  sense;  the  hearer  is  constantly  breathing 
a  scale-atmosphere;  when  he  loses  the  scale  there  is 
little  left  to  cling  to,  as  regards  pure  music.  Now  let  the 
prominence  be  shifted  from  the  tonic  and  dominant,  and 
instinctively  the  listener  casts  about  to  find  what  chords 
are  having  special  emphasis,  for  they  axe  now  to  become 
his  new  tonic  and  dominant  chords.     If  the  new  selection 

154 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

be  not  instantaneous,  there  will  be  a  period  of  suspense 
—  if  managed  properly  and  not  of  too  long  duration,  a 
not  unpleasant,  nay,  perhaps  an  exhilarating  suspense  — 
like  that  of  a  well-written  story,  wherein  no  small  part 
of  the  interest  is  due  to  the  uncertainty  of  the  plot. 
But  the  suspense  of  scale-relation  can  have  no  long 
duration,  and  it  would  be  as  repugnant  to  the  com- 
poser as  to  the  listener. 

The  following  example  shows  the  prominence  of  the 
tonic  and  dominant  chords  in  the  ways  above  named. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  the  inversions  of  the  chords 
are  as  assertive  of  the  real  nature  of  the  chords  as  are 
their  fundamental  positions;  that  is  to  say,  the  chord 
of  the  sixth  on  E,  or  the  chord  of  the  sixth  and  fourth 
on  G,  gives  the  same  prominence  to  the  C  chord  as  does 
the  fundamental  position;  and  the  same  is  true  of  the 
inversions  of  the  dominant  chord  on  G.  This  must  be 
remembered  in  estimating  the  amount  of  emphasis  of 
the  various  chords  in  the  following  illustration: 


Largo, 


Beethoven  Op.  2  No.  2. 


mf^ 


wm 


i         :* 


-#-  -&- 


^ite^^^ 


m. 


-i&- 


g*qy^q^q^^-^g^^ 


iSS 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


i 


*Ei5 


3" 


i 


•-!!:. 


^W^^^Pf^ 


r 


i 


s 


g 


a 


1^1 


rt? 


T    1^ 


(aM— J     ^ 


■?:>- 


i 


• — ^ 


qr-qy^-q-^ 


^ 


f 


^l -« ^g 


^ 


r^ 


3^ 


I 

This  example  shows  the  special  emphasis  of  tonic  and 
dominant  in  a  really  surprising  manner,  and  to  an  ex- 
treme degree.  Reckoning  three  beats  to  the  measure, 
the  passage  contains  twenty- three  beats;  the  funda- 
mental harmony  of  fourteen  of  the  twenty-three  is  that 
of  the  tonic  chord;  that  of  seven  beats  is  the  dominant 
chord,  leaving  only  two  beats,  whose  harmony  is  that 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

of  the  subdominant.  Yet  no  one  in  hearing  it  has  any 
impression  of  the  paucity  of  diverse  harmonies,  and  the 
immense  predominance  of  the  tonic  chord. 

The  absence  of  monotony,  in  this  surprising  reiteration 
of  the  tonic  and  dominant  chords,  evinces  the  satis- 
faction of  the  hearer  in  having  the  scale  strongly  em- 
phasized. Of  course,  the  mere  repetition,  apart  from 
pleasing  melody,  would  at  once  become  tiresome,  and 
the  reason  for  very  much  of  the  modern  frequency  of 
modulation  is  due  to  the  lack  of  melodic  invention 
based  upon  the  foundation  chords  of  a  scale.  As  soon 
as  the  latter-day  composer  finds  himself  at  the  end  of  a 
melodic  thought  —  and  the  end  is  apt  to  be  very  near 
the  beginning  —  he  hopes  to  start  the  flow  of  melody 
again  by  plunging  into  another  scale,  with  probably 
some  success  from  the  melodic  point  of  view,  but  such 
shifting  from  scale  to  scale  makes  the  composition 
incoherent. 

We  may,  therefore,  consider  that  a  prolonged  emphasis 
of  the  main  scale  in  which  the  composition  lies  is  the 
first  demand  in  a  genuine  art-product.  But,  ere  long, 
the  craving  for  variety,  which  is  as  strong  as  that  of 
unity,  asserts  itself,  and  we  have  now  reached  the  point 
where  we  must  needs  change  the  scale.  At  this  point, 
however,  we  must  allude  to  a  peculiar  fact  that  is  not 
very  generally  recognized.  Every  long  composition  con- 
tains many  modulations,  and  each  one  may  seem  to  be 
so  complete  that  we  are  apparently  as  fully  established 
in  each  new  scale,  as  in  the  one  in  which  the  piece  began. 
But  we  are  not  thus  established  as  firmly  as  we  were  in 
the  first  scale.     We  think  we  have  utterly  forgotten  that 

157 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

"— ■^~~"^^~— "— ~~^™~~^^~"'"^""^""'~~*~'"^"'^^^~"~^^~~*~^~~'~"~~'~"^^~~""^^~""^^ 

first  scale  —  with  all  our  endeavors  we  cannot  call  it  up 
—  yet  there  remains  an  impression  of  it  deep  down  in 
our  mind  which  a  dozen  or  twenty  succeeding  scales 
can  never  quite  eradicate.  And  it  is  not  from  any 
arbitrary  dictum  of  the  acknowledged  authorities  in  mu- 
sical composition,  it  is  from  no  fashion  of  "musical 
form,"  but  simply  because  of  this  unfailing  remembrance 
of  the  first  scale  that  possessed  our  minds,  that  the  com- 
position ultimately  returns  to  its  original  key,  and  the 
hearer  has  something  of  that  "home"  feeling  come  over 
him,  in  getting  back  to  his  first  key  after  all  his  scale 
wanderings,  that  the  traveller  has,  after  years  of  foreign 
life,  when  he  returns  to  the  scenes  of  childhood.  All  of 
the  other  scales  that  have  been  touched,  or  have  been 
continued  for  long  passages,  are  on  a  par,  as  regards 
their  transient  impression  on  the  mind;  they  were 
adopted  fully  and  satisfactorily,  and  the  finest  passages 
in  the  whole  piece  may  have  lain  in  one  or  another  of 
them,  but  however  cordially  accepted,  none  of  them  left 
an  abiding  impression  —  each  was  dropped  absolutely 
xin  entering  upon  a  new  scale  —  it  is  a  case  of  "out  of 
sight,  out  of  mind."  A  composer  feels  this  abiding  im- 
pression of  the  original  scale  quite  as  distinctly  as  any 
of  his  hearers,  and  it  is  sometimes  a  matter  of  surprise 
to  him,  and  confirmatory  of  the  preeminent  force  of  the 
original  scale,  that  he  can  return  to  it  so  easily,  and  feel 
its  old  force  so  powerfully  on  suddenly  returning  to  it 
from  some  extremely  remote  scale  —  a  quick  transition 
that  would  be  impossible,  if  he  were  not  entering  a  scale 
that  is  made  easy  of  entrance  by  the  quality  of 
familiarity.     It  is  probable  that  the  period  of  absence 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

from  that  first  scale  might  be  so  prolonged  that  the  last 
vestige  of  remembrance  of  it  would  be  lost.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  how  long  it  can  be  retained  in  the 
memory;  certainly  longer  in  some  minds  than  in  others, 
but  there  must  be  a  limit  for  even  the  most  retentive 
memory.  In  sonatas  and  symphonies,  consisting  of 
several  distinct  movements,  each  of  considerable  length, 
it  is  thought  necessary  to  have  the  last  movement  >  in 
the  same  key  as  the  first,  though  it  may  well  be  doubted 
if  one  in  a  thousand  would  feel  any  lack  of  proper  unity, 
if  the  last  movement  were  in  a  different  key.  It  is  not 
impossible  that  an  indefinable  lack  might  be  felt,  with- 
out at  all  realizing  the  ground  of  it. 

It  is  by  no  means  claimed  that  such  prominence  of 
the  tonic  and  dominant  chords  as  we  find  in  the  above 
example  from  Beethoven  is  to  be  found  at  the  beginning 
of  every  composition,  or  that  it  is  maintained  in  the 
sequel  of  the  composition  cited.  But  it  is  conclusively 
proved  by  the  examination  of  well  constructed  music 
that  in  one  or  another,  or  in  all  of  the  ways  above  men- 
tioned, a  conspicuous  emphasis  is  placed  upon  the  two 
most  important  chords  of  the  scale  in  use. 

Remembering  that  the  dominant  chord  of  any  piece 
is  already  emphasized,  it  would  seem  to  require  some 
length  of  time  to  show  that  it  is  being  so  much  more 
emphasized  than  formerly  that  the  hearer  would  be  in- 
clined to  accept  it  as  the  tonic  of  a  new  scale.  Now,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  it  does  require  more  time  to  modulate 
into  the  dominant,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  than 
into  any  other  scale  that  stands  in  somewhat  close  con- 
nection with  the  original  scale,  and  if  one  will  carefully 

159 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

watch  his  own  feelings  in  many  passages  where  there 
seems  to  be  a  drifting  into  the  dominant,  he  will  become 
conscious  that  he  is  more  or  less  perplexed  to  know 
whether  to  construe  the  dominant  chord  as  still  the 
dominant,  or  to  accept  it  as  a  new  tonic.  This  waver- 
ing in  his  mind  may  not  for  a  brief  time  be  disagreeable, 
for  the  music  may  be  intelligible  and  pleasing  under 
either  interpretation,  but  it  cannot  be  continued  be- 
yond a  certain  point,  and  it  is  one  of  the  necessary  in- 
stincts of  the  composer  that  the  suspense  shall  not  be 
unduly  prolonged.  Many  a  musician  has  had  the  im- 
pleasant  experience  of  trying  to  get  into  the  dominant 
scale,  and  of  encountering  precisely  this  difficulty  of  not 
being  able  to  inject  the  tonic  quality  into  the  dominant, 
although,  if  the  same  music  had  begim  in  that  dominant 
scale,  the  whole  passage  would  have  been  construed 
therein.  It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world  whether 
the  mind  is  already  prepossessed  by  a  scale. 

The  first  chord  in  a  piece  is  instinctively  accepted  as 
the  tonic  chord;  and  the  mind  will  continue  to  regard 
it  so,  until  the  necessity  of  accepting  another  key-note 
becomes  imperative.  It  may  even  happen  that  when  a 
key-note  has  been  accepted,  the  dominant  chord  of  that 
scale  may  for  a  short  time  occur  more  frequently  than 
that  of  the  tonic,  without  inducing  the  hearer  to  sub- 
stitute the  dominant  for  the  tonic,  i.e.,  to  modulate, 
r  Nothing  is  further  from  the  truth  than  that  an  acci- 
dental can  produce  a  modulation.  It  no  more  throws  a 
scale  out  of  the  mind  than  a  pebble  will  throw  a  railway 
train  off  the  track.  A  multitude  of  pebbles  might  do  it, 
and  any  accidental,  repeated  frequently,  may  also  lead 

i6o 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


to  the  derailment  of  a  scale;  but  a  scale  once  possessing 
the  mind  is  too  firmly  fixed  to  be  dislodged  by  a  trifle. 
We  can  go  from  the  scale  of  C  to  that  of  G  without  a 
single  accidental,  and  again  we  can  remain  in  the  key 
of  C  in  a  passage  that  contains  F  sharp  many  times, 
thus: 


m — 4 — J — s#*r — 


^ 


w^^^=m 


^^^^m- 


^ 


^ 


l^^^^^gi 


it 


One  of  the  difficulties  of  listening  to  an  unfamiliar 
composition  is  in  the  occasional  uncertainty  in  regard  to 
the  scale.  After  becoming  acquainted  with  the  music, 
we  have  learned  to  interpret  doubtful  passages  in  their 
proper  keys.  Of  course,  the  suspense  in  regard  to  un- 
familiar passages  must  not  be  so  prolonged  as  to  be  in 
any  wise  disagreeable,  but  there  is  certainly  involved  a 
mental  effort  that  afterward  is  not  required.  In  the 
case  of  these  doubtful  passages,  we  really  hear  them  in 
a  double  sense,  finding  one  meaning  as  considering  them 

i6i 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

in  the  original  scale,  and  another  meaning  as  being  in 
the  new  scale,  and  each  effect  may  be  perfectly  musical ; 
but  we  finally  adopt  that  which  seems  most  consistent 
with  the  context.  Each  one  makes  his  own  conclusions, 
which  are  authoritative  for  himself  alone.  My  opinion 
is  no  rule  for  another.  Where  /  find  a  new  key-note, 
there  is  a  new  key-note  for  me,  but  no  one  else  can  be 
bound  to  my  decision,  nor  can  I  be  bound  to  another's 
decision.  Musicians  of  equal  ability  may  disagree  as  to 
the  point  where  the  change  of  scale  occurs,  and  it  will 
often  happen  that  one  cannot  tell  where  he  has  made 
the  exchange  of  scales.  At  a  given  spot  he  knows  he 
is  in  the  old  scale;  at  another  point,  a  few  measures 
further  on,  he  knows  he  is  in  the  new  scale;  and  perhaps 
the  most  he  can  ever  do  will  be  to  bring  those  two  points 
a  little  nearer  together,  leaving  a  short  passage  of  de- 
batable ground  where  the  transition  is  unconsciously 
effected. 

When  we  wish  to  modulate  into  the  subdominant,  the 
problem  is  comparatively  easy;  for  the  subdominant 
chord  is  so  far  inferior  to  that  on  the  dominant,  that  its 
use  is  comparatively  rare.  The  result  is,  that  as  soon 
as  we  emphasize  the  subdominant  chord,  the  mind 
quickly  feels  the  disproportion  in  its  use;  and,  having 
been  of  infrequent  occurrence  in  the  original  scale,  its 
emphasis  compels  the  mind  to  surmise  at  once  that  it  is 
indicative  of  a  transition  in  scales,  and  one  readily 
adopts  the  new  keynote. 

We  will  only  allude  to  one  more  interesting  fact  con- 
nected with  the  subject,  namely,  that  at  the  opening  of 
a  composition  the  mind,  though  awake,  is  not  as  alert 

i6a 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

as  when  it  has  become,  so  to  speak,  warmed  up  by  its 
own  exercise,  and  is  more  ready  to  respond  to  the  sug- 
gestion of  modulation  than  it  can  be  at  first.  It  is  pre- 
cisely the  same  as  in  listening  to  an  oration  or  discourse, 
wherein  the  writer  must  adapt  himself  to  the  less  re- 
ceptive and  responsive  mood  of  the  auditor,  and  lead 
him  along  gradually  to  the  more  subtle  and  difficult 
treatment  of  his  subject.  Thus  it  results  that  when  the 
middle  part  of  a  long  composition  has  been  reached,  the 
mind  easily  grasps  and  enjoys  a  frequency  and  boldness 
of  modulation  that  would  be  most  mal  a  propos  at  an 
earlier  point,  and  will  flit  from  scale  to  scale  with  sur- 
prising dexterity  and  with  no  fatigue.  Where  there  is 
any  such  rapid  series  of  modulations,  the  phrases  which 
lie  in  the  successive  scales  will  be  correspondingly  brief, 
as  it  will  only  be  from  phrase  to  phrase  that  the  new 
scalesare  introduced.  For  this  rapid  alternation  of  scales, 
without  bewildering  the  hearer,  nothing  is  more  service- 
able than  the  sequence  form  of  composition,  which  is  re- 
ferred to  in  another  essay;  for  each  phrase  in  the  se- 
quence is  short,  and,  if  it  be  of  the  sort  favorable  for  mod- 
ulation, each  repetition  of  the  initial  phrase  instantly 
puts  the  mind  into  a  new  scale. 

The  entire  course  of  a  well-written  composition  illus- 
trates the  numberless  ways  of  maintaining  interest  by 
a  constant  succession  of  new  effects,  of  one  sort  and  an- 
other; and  this  device  of  modulation,  though  of  less 
frequency,  is  one  of  the  most  important  and  pleasing. 

Finally,  the  reason  why  a  change  of  scale  is  pleasur- 
able calls  for  a  moment's  attention.  The  scale  —  the 
tone-alphabet   of  music-language  —  is  an  organism  of 

163 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

seven  tones,  and  not  a  mere  series  of  adjacent  but  un- 
related tones.  In  the  scale  each  tone  has  its  peculiar 
color  and  effect,  and  each  succeeding  octave,  above  or 
below,  re-echoes  the  same  color  and  effect.  This  qual- 
ity that  appears  in  tones  from  such  organic  relation  we 
call  the  scale-color  of  the  tone  —  a  color  entirely  distinct 
from  that  which  distinguishes,  for  example,  the  tone  of 
a  violin  from  that  of  a  flute  or  clarinet. 

Thus  the  scale  can  be  compared  to  the  solar  spectrum 
with  its  seven  distinct  colors;  and  a  little  experiment 
shows  how  the  seven  colors  in  our  tonal  spectrum  may 
be  made  to  appear  successively  in  any  tone  one  may 
produce  by  making  that  tone  to  appear,  first  in  one, 
then  another  of  the  seven  positions  of  the  scale.  Thus, 
if  the  chord  of  C  be  played,  establishing  the  scale  of  C  in 
the  mind,  B  will  show  the  color  that  is  peculiar  to  the 
seventh  of  every  scale,  with  its  peculiar  "leading'* 
quality  that  makes  one  expect  to  hear  the  tone  above 
after  it.  Now  put  yourself  into  the  scale  of  B,  and 
that  same  tone  takes  on  a  distinctly  different  color  — 
that  of  the  tonic.  It  will  require  but  little  practice  to 
go  through  all  the  tones  of  the  scale  and  learn  their 
especial  "scale  color,"  which  is  more  pronounced  in  some 
tones  than  in  others,  but  all  of  them  perfectly  individual 
to  an  experienced  ear. 

As  the  significance  of  each  tone  is  found  in  its  scale 
color,  the  "meaning"  of  a  passage  remains  essentially 
the  same,  whether  it  be  performed  by  human  voices,  or 
by  stringed,  reed,  or  brass  instruments.  The  main  force 
of  the  tone  is  derived  from  its  scale  position. 

We  can  now  understand  the  philosophy  of  modula- 

164 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

tion,  as  a  means  of  giving  variety  to  the  composition. 
Modulation  is  not  primarily  so  much  for  the  purpose  of 
introducing  new  tones  to  the  hearer,  as  to  shift  the  colors 
on  the  same  tones,  and  show  those  tones  in  a  new  light. 
Thus,  in  going  from  any  scale  to  its  dominant,  or  to  its 
subdominant,  all  the  tones  remain  identical  except  one, 
but  all  of  the  remaining  six  have  taken  on  a  fresh  effect, 
by  occupying  different  positions  in  the  new  scales ;  thus 
the  dominant  of  the  old  becomes  the  ruling  tone  of  the 
new,  with  all  the  mastery  inherent  in  the  tonic  color; 
the  "leading  tone"  of  the  old  becomes  the  third  of  the 
new,  with  that  restful  quality  that  always  inheres  in  the 
third  of  the  scale.  These  tones  are  virtually  new  to  the 
ear,  heard  with  this  new  light  cast  upon  them.  In  modu- 
lating into  the  remoter  scales  we  also  get  tones  not  heard 
before,  and  this  variety  is  also  pleasing,  but  in  any  com- 
position there  is  more  use  of  the  scale  founded  on  the 
dominant,  than  of  any  other,  when  resorting  to  modu- 
lation for  the  sake  of  new  effect;  and  in  the  identity  of 
all  the  tones  but  one  in  a  dominant  scale  with  those  of 
the  original  scale,  we  find  ourselves  fairly  justified  in 
claiming  that  the  mind  is  as  well  pleased  to  hear  familiar 
tones  in  a  new  light,  as  to  hear  utterly  new  tones.  And 
is  not  this  in  accord  with  our  feeling  in  other  lines  of 
thought?  Are  we  not  as  pleased  and  surprised  to  have 
an  old  and  hackneyed  thought  presented  in  a  fresh 
aspect  and  with  unwonted  virility,  as  to  have  an  essen- 
tially new  thought?  The  world  does  not  crave  new  ideas 
a  whit  more  than  it  does  the  infusion  of  new  blood  into 
the  old  ideas.  In  the  best  sense  of  newness  we  get  it  in 
the  re-vitalizing  of  old  truths. 

i6s 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


How  is  Music  Composed? 

A  COMPOSER  never  feels  more  helpless  than 
when  he  is  confronted  by  the  oft-repeated  ques- 
tion, "How  do  you  write  music?  and  he  may 
well  be  embarrassed ;  for  the  process  is  as  indescribable 
as  the  essence  of  music  itself  is  intangible  and  evanes- 
cent. Yet,  after  all,  is  this  mysterious  process  of  com- 
position, this  reaching  forth  for  strains  that  never  yet 
have  sounded  in  a  mortal  ear,  this  capturing  of  what 
sometimes  seem  like  the  very  echoes  of  a  heavenly 
masterpiece  —  is  this  more  wonderful  than  the  unimag- 
inable process  by  which  any  writer  or  thinker  grasps  a 
thought  that  lies  outside  of  him?  Who  has  the  slight- 
est conception  of  the  modus  operandi  of  the  universal 
art  of  thinking  —  doing,  we  know  not  how,  to  get,  we 
know  not  what.  But  we  are  all  accustomed  to  think 
in  verbal  language,  and  from  the  very  constancy  of  the 
act  we  stupidly  lose  the  sense  of  its  mystery.  In  an 
indefinable  way,  understood  only  by  Him  who  made 
the  mind,  an  idea  comes  to  a  trained  intellect,  marvel- 
ously  embodied  in  a  crystalization  of  words  —  verbal 
forms  to  one  thinker,  spacial  forms  and  colors  to 
another,  melodic  and  harmonic  forms  to  a  third:  the 
first  thinker  is  a  litterateur,  the  second,  a  sculptor, 
architect,  or  painter,  the  third,  a  musical  composer. 
The  only  thing  that  is  comparable  to  the  nature  of  the 
Divine  Being  is  the  marvellous  enginery  of  the  human 
mind.  The  experience  of  the  mystery  of  mental  crea- 
tion leaves  no  trace  of  the  method,  and  in  its  broad 

i66 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

reach  the  question,  how  we  think,  must  for  mortals  re- 
main unanswered. 

Intricate  as  the  process  is,  in  musical  invention,  we 
will  venture  to  call  attention  to  one  trick  of  the  art, 
which  can  be  comprehended  even  by  the  ordinary  music- 
lover,  namely,  that  of  Sequence  and  Imitation. 

Of  all  the  devices  in  composition  none  is  more  im- 
portant, nor  of  more  frequent  use,  than  that  of  sequence. 
Quite  unbeknown  to  the  listener,  it  produces  an  effect 
that  is  always  welcome  when  judiciously  used,  and  he 
may  never  realize  how  much  of  the  pleasurable  effect  of 
music  is  due  to  this  very  simple  art.  Sequence  may  be 
defined  as  a  parallelism  of  ideas;  something  like  suc- 
cessive statements  of  the  same  thought  in  verbal  ex- 
pression, where  the  same  idea  is  presented  in  short  and 
pithy  phrases  by  way  of  definition  or  of  illustration. 
But  in  such  reiteration  of  a  thought,  the  musical  com- 
poser has  the  best  of  it;  for  in  large  degree  the  thought 
that  is  at  the  basis  of  the  sequence  is  one  and  the  same, 
either  in  the  melody  or  in  both  melody  and  harmony. 
It  is  more  or  less  precise  reiteration;  but  variety  is 
afforded,  without  effort  to  the  composer,  by  placing  the 
successive  phrases  higher  and  higher,  or  lower  and 
lower  in  the  scale,  so  that  each  phrase  acquires  an 
aspect  of  its  own,  combining  novelty  with  reminiscence. 
The  labor  of  composition  is  thereby  materially  lightened; 
for,  if  the  idea  to  be  repeated  is  two  measures  long,  and 
it  recurs  twice,  the  composer,  in  producing  those  two 
measures,  has  really  produced  six.  Of  course,  this 
manner  of  treating  an  idea  must  not  be  carried  to  excess; 
and  it  is  not  every  thought  or  every  phrase  that  can  be 

167 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

thus  reiterated ;  but  it  is  a  most  important  requirement 
of  a  writer  that  he  be  able  to  introduce  this  effect  from 
time  to  time;  and  many  a  modern  composition  suffers, 
both  in  unity  and  in  strength,  from  a  lack  of  skill  thus 
to  repeat  existing  material.  For  one  element  of  success 
in  all  writing  is,  that  the  hearer  shall  be  able  easily  to 
grasp  an  idea,  and  this  he  never  does  so  perfectly  as  in 
the  reiteration  of  phrases  in  sequence  form.  It  is  also 
to  be  noted  that  the  sequence  comprises  in  itself  the  two 
essential  requirements  of  every  composition  —  unity  and 
variety. 

Sequence  phrases  are  extremely  variable  in  length; 
sometimes  only  a  small  fraction  of  one  measure,  at 
other  times  from  one  to  two  measures  long.  The  fol- 
lowing illustrations  will  make  the  nature  of  sequence 
perfectly  clear: 


\T=t 


fe^^^ 


^^ 


f=H=i= 


u 


d=F 


0 


9± 


^r.smjYr.iTri^^^^^^ 


i68 


RAMBLES    IN     MUSIC-LAND 


(3)      J^i     ',     ^1       '^  ^         ^  "^ 


i 


-* — «- 


^t — X- 


fL 


9-^ 


If  one  will  play  the  first  phrase  of  any  of  the  above 
sequences,  he  will  recognize  how  readily  the  mind  grasps 
the  thought  in  its  repetition.  Indeed,  the  listener  out- 
strips the  performer,  and  unconsciously  composes  the 
repetition  for  himself.  This  ability  pleases  him,  and 
making  the  hearer  pleased  with  himself  goes  a  long  way 
toward  making  him  pleased  with  the  music.  It  will  be 
seen  in  the  last  example  that  we  have  a  compound 
sequence ;  for  the  melody  of  the  first  measure  is  repeated 
three  times  at  a  descending  interval  of  a  third,  while 
the  entire  melody  of  the  first  four  measures  is  repeated 
one  degree  higher. 

Note  also  that  many  a  phrase  which,  used  once  only, 
would  receive  little  or  no  attention,  and  would  possess 
no  remarkable  strength,  gathers  force  in  the  repetition, 
produces  a  sort  of  climax,  and  may  become  a  point  of 

169 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


peculiar  interest  in  the  composition.  The  weakness  of 
much  modern  writing  is  perhaps  due  less  to  the  poverty 
of  the  initial  thought  than  to  the  lack  of  ability  so  to 
treat  the  thought  as  to  develop  all  its  force. 

In  examining  the  above  illustrations  it  will  be  seen 
that  each  successive  phrase  stands  at  a  uniform  distance 
from  the  preceding  phrase.  More  commonly,  each  new 
entrance  is  on  the  next  degree  of  the  scale,  either  higher 
or  lower;  and  the  distance  is  determined,  not  by  the 
composer,  but  by  the  nature  of  the  phrase  —  by  its 
natural  drift.  Sometimes  the  interval  is  a  third,  rarely 
a  fourth  or  a  fifth.  And  whether  the  trend  of  the  phrase 
is  upward  or  downward  is  also  determined  by  its  in- 
herent drift;  an  ascending  sequence  cannot  usually  be 
made  to  descend,  nor  vice  versa. 

A  phrase  that  can  thus  be  employed  in  sequence  form 
has  almost  invariably  two  repetitions.  If  repeated  only 
once,  it  commonly  fails  to  develop  its  full  significance; 
and  the  listener  is  disappointed,  in  the  semi-conscious- 
ness that  its  entire  force  has  not  been  brought  out. 
But  beyond  a  third  occurrence  of  the  phrase  there  is  a 
sense  of  monotony;  so  that  it  is  rare  for  the  phrase  to  be 
heard  four  times.  The  greatest  master  of  the  art  is  Se- 
bastian Bach,  a  few  of  whose  sequences  are  here  presented : 


170 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


i 


«* 


^ 


JLAjL..  4    I  ^ 


^^ 


s 


^^-^^r=:i> 


T 


^^^ 


^J 


^iifc^ 


s^i  J  J  y-^ 


^ 


i—*—* 


— ^ 


^1'^  •  '  '  ^-riT,. 


h-T-HM-r 


I  '  I 


( 


J- 


§i^ 


^ 


r 


T 


I  I  I 


r=^ 


^ 


^^^^^^:^^d^^^^. 


^§S 


l^^ti+t 


S^^T^^^^tSg^ 


^iife 


6%^^^ 


S?^ 


=? 


i 


^^ 


S3it 


-5?rir-r^ 


^-"-» 


r- 


iibll'    I  «lh^ 


-It   *    »   Sil- 


^^i^ 


^ 


^ 


^ 


r-^— ^ 


I 


171 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Sometimes  the  melody  alone  carries  out  the  sequence 
idea,  as  in  the  following: 


3=p: 


SS 


atzt 


S 


-i^— ^ 


75^ 


^-^- 


-g-    t>^ 


^a 


At  other  times  the  harmony  is  repeated  with  equal 
exactness.  Yet  even  if  the  harmony  shares  in  the 
sequence  form,  there  is  likely  to  be  a  deviation  from  it 
in  the  last  repetition,  which  obviates  the  effect  of  mere 
mechanical  precision. 

This  imitation  of  a  given  phrase,  which  finds  its  ex- 
treme illustration  in  the  strict  sequence,  appears  in  less 
degree  in  passages  like  the  following,  wherein  the  original 
phrase  is  copied  in  its  rhythm  and  in  the  direction  of  its 
melody,  yet  without  absolute  identity  of  the  correspond- 
ing intervals,  as  in  strict  sequence.  This  sort  of  imi- 
tation is  illustrated  in  the  following: 


a 


is 


w 


(^ 


^ 


172 


RAMBtES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


i 


aj 


¥ 


f-^-^ 


t==t 


1 


i 


-^ 


i=^ 


3-^ 


^^ 


^ 


=^;=^ 


f^ 


^ 


la  the  imitation  of  one  phrase  by  another,  there  may 
be  all  degrees  of  resemblance  in  the  direction  of  the 
melody,  and  in  the  intervals  between  the  successive 
tones,  or  there  may  be  absolutely  no  resemblance  in 
either  of  these  respects;  but  the  rhythm,  i.e.,  the  values 
of  the  corresponding  tones,  must  be  identical:  and 
wherever  this  identity  is  found  one  will  feel  a  distinct 
resemblamce  to  the  original  phrase,  as  in  the  following 
examples : 


?=i^ 


^i^i^i^ 


^=^ 


-• =1- 


i 


^^—i^-^ 


^m 


• — jh 


'"^- 

f 


173 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


f^^ta*^^^^^^^ 


e 


113=^ 


:^=?t 


SE? 


^^ 


S 


^ 


i 


?±^ 


:its=3t 


-tzz^i: 


-••       d 


a 


i 


:^        f      q 


-•-7- 


-*=# 


^^ 


The  essence  of  a  musical  idea  will  sometimes  be  found 
more  in  its  rhythm  than  in  the  interval  relations  of  its 
tones.  It  is  simply  the  difference  of  rhythm  that  con- 
ceals, in  the  following,  a  beautiful  symphonic  melody 
of  Beethoven. 


m 


^ 


-w — r- 


a=rt 


:t=at 


^ 


t=3t 


fe^   f-  *   .1 


^ 

y^^^g^ 


^^ 


^^^ 


EXt 


^p::?: 


^  'LThr" 


174 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

Moreover,  a  peculiar  sense  of  unity  and  coherence  in 
a  melody  is  often  due  to  the  prevalence  of  a  minute 
rhythmical  element  throughout  the  melody;  as  in  the 
above  quotation  from  Beethoven,  where  one  of  its  most 
characteristic  features  is  presented  in  the  very  first  two 
notes. 


^^ 


Such  mode  of  composition  is,  in  reality,  the  elabo- 
ration of  some  musical  idea  which  constitutes,  as  we 
might  say,  the  kernel  of  the  music,  and  which  can  be 
fully  expanded  only  by  its  reiteration  in  varied  form. 
To  do  this  successfully  shows  a  master's  skill,  and  re- 
quires long  and  patient  discipline.  Composition  of  this 
sort  has  enduring  value,  as  it  possesses  naturalness,  and 
is  pervaded  by  a  pleasing  and  indispensable  unity. 

The  greater  one's  skill  in  producing  imitative  effects 
along  the  lines  presented  in  the  foregoing  analysis,  the 
less  new  material  he  needs  in  any  given  composition,  and 
the  more  homogeneous,  logical,  and  easily  apprehended 
that  composition  will  be.  The  classic  writers  were 
masters  of  the  art,  and  should  be  studied  as  models  in 
this  respect  by  all  who  aspire  to  high  rank  as  com- 
posers. Fluency  in  melodic  invention  is  an  inestimable 
gift,  but  it  is  not  so  large  a  part  in  the  total  requirement 
of  a  successful  composition  as  is  commonly  supposed. 


175 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 


Why  do  We  have  Discord  in  Music? 

^FffHE  problem  we  have  chosen  as  the  last  of  the 
IIL  series  seems  the  most  perplexing  of  all.  Discord 
^^  is  universally  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Its  very  frequency  seems  almost  an  explanation  of  its 
necessity.  This  is  a  trait  in  human  nature:  the  more 
familiar  we  become  with  any  situation  in  life,  the  more 
unquestioningly  we  accept  it,  less  and  less  inclined  to 
inquire  into  its  reason  or  propriety. 

But  if  one  applies  his  mind  directly  to  the  anomaly 
of  discordance  as  an  integral  factor  of  our  ''harmonies," 
he  cannot  fail  to  be  surprised  at  the  apparent  incon- 
sistency, and  may  labor  long  before  an  explanation  is 
forthcoming.  The  realization  of  what  "concord  of 
sweet  sounds"  and  the  jargon  of  conflicting  tones  signify 
makes  them  appear  utterly  incompatible  in  an  art  one 
of  whose  highest  purposes  is  to  give  us  unmingled  pleas- 
ure. It  seems  to  make  the  art  a  "bitter-sweet"  that 
can  never  be  an  unalloyed  delight. 

Some  attempt  to  overcome  the  difficulty  by  recogniz- 
ing two  kinds  of  discords  —  the  pleasing  and  the  dis- 
pleasing !  —  an  easy  subterfuge  for  one  who  lazily  seeks 
to  evade  what'seems  to  be  an  insurmountable  difficulty, 
but  it  is  too  fallacious  for  those  who  are  willing  to  look 
the  facts  plainlj^  in  the  face.  We  cannot  square  facts 
to  theories,  we  must  square  theories  to  facts. 

Before  assuming  to  solve  the  problem,  one  thing  should 
be  made  clear  in  regard  to  what  we  call  a  discord,  which 

176 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

is  interesting  to  consider,  though  it  does  not  in  the  least 
lessen  the  difficulty  of  the  matter  in  hand. 
Such  a  combination  of  tones  as  the  following, 


i 


is  called  a  discord ;  yet  while  the  entire  group  of  tones  is 
stamped  —  or  stigmatized  —  as  a  discord,  it  is  far  more 
of  a  concord  than  of  a  discord,  for  it  is  a  "common 
chord,"  with  all  the  concordance  of  such  a  tone-group, 
plus  one  tone  that  stands  in  antagonism  to  a  single 
member  of  the  group,  viz.,  the  root.  Thus  the  pre- 
ponderance of  effect  is  thoroughly  harmonious  —  it  is  a 
perfect  concord  with  a  small  infusion  of  discord,  and 
takes  its  name  from  that  subordinate  element.  There 
is  no  discordance  in  music,  with  the  rarest  exceptions, 
that  does  not  thus  show  a  predominance  of  pure  concord 
in  immediate  association  therewith.  It  is  thus  evident 
that  in  the  use  of  discords  the  "harmony"  of  a  com- 
position is  not  so  seriously  disturbed  as  might  be 
imagined. 

This,  however,  does  not  at  all  explain  why  the  least 
possible  element  of  discord  can  ever  properly  find  its 
way  into  music,  though  it  proves  how  comparatively 
slight  the  infusion  of  the  inharmonious  is,  even  in  what 
we  call  the  strongest  discords.  The  so-called  discords 
are  simply  tinged,  not  saturated,  with  the  objectionable 
element. 

To  return  to  our  main  discussion  —  no  other  art  in- 
volves this  problem.  In  painting  we  have  shadow  as  a 
foil  for  sunlight;  but  shadow  at  its  worst  is  not  an  un- 

177 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

mixed  evil,  it  is  often  welcome  and  restful,  and  the  eye 
will  sometimes  linger  longest  on  the  darkest  portion  of 
the  picture.  But  the  ear  is  forever  antagonistic  to 
discord;  it  wants  it,  and  cannot  do  without  it;  but  it  is 
a  case  of  welcoming  pain;  and  no  sooner  does  it  hear  it 
than  it  recoils  and  seeks  to  escape  it.  It  is  lured  to  it  as 
the  bird  is  lured  by  the  fatal  magic  of  the  serpent's 
charm,  and  even^'struggles  like  the  bird  to  gain  the  joy 
of  liberation.  ^^  It  is  like  Satan  in  the  councils  of  heaven, 
as  described  in  the  Book  of  Job.^^How  shall  we  explain 
the  anomaly? 

The  difficulty  of  understanding  the  matter  is  largely 
due  to  the  fact  that  our  minds  act  so  easily  and  spon- 
taneously in  their  complex  operations  that  we  often  do 
not  realize  fully  what  our  own  thoughts  are;  just  as 
the  pianist  is  quite  unconscious  of  the  simultaneous 
motion  of  all  his  fingers  in  the  most  rapid  execution,  yet 
his  mind  prompts  every  single  motion.  It  is  done  by 
what  we  call  our  subconscious  mind ;  and  a  little  reflec- 
tion leads  one  to  believe  that  our  subconscious  mind  is  by 
far  the  most  active  and  brilliant  part  of  our  mentality. 

When  one  has  acquired  the  faculty  of  distinct  intro- 
spection —  and  it  is  much  harder  to  know  what  is 
within  us  than  what  is  without  us  —  he  will  be  aware  of 
the  close  resemblance  between  the  discordances  and  con- 
cordances of  music  and  those  of  life;  and  naturally  so, 
for  music  symbolizes  our  life  better  than  any  other  art; 
and  he  will  find  that  when  hearing  a  discord  the  mind 
instantly  looks  forward  to  that  compensating  harmony 
that  shall  be  to  the  discord  like  the  poet's 

"Rest  after  toil,  port  after  stormy  seas," 

178 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

that  somehow,  in  the  retrospect,  makes  even  past  labor 
sweet,  and  puts  a  gilded  edge  upon  the  sailor's  very 
struggle  for  deliverance;  while  rest  itself  is  never  blessed 
rest  except  as  it  follows  toil,  and  only  stormy  seats  can 
make  the  "port"  a  paradise. 

Who  is  there  that  cannot  look  upon  some  painful  ex- 
perience of  the  past,  and  find  it  strangely  although 
faintly  brightened  by  a  light  that  falls  upon  it  from  the 
happy  outcome  of  that  experience?  Thus  it  is  our 
minds  are  made;  and  thus  discord  and  concord  both  in 
life  and  in  music  react  upon  each  other  —  the  discord 
brightened  by  its  joyous  sequel,  the  concord  intensified 
and  often  made  glorious  by  the  dark  background  of 
what  in  its  own  nature  is  only  painful.  Thus  it  is  that 
we  find  reflected  pleasure  in  discord,  by  intimate  asso- 
ciation in  our  mind  with  its  delightful  solution  —  called 
in  music  "resolution;"  and  thus,  too,  the  force  of  pure 
concord  comes  to  us  in  all  the  power  of  its  meaning, 
with  the  foil  of  a  darksome  past,  without  which  we 
should  never  experience  in  its  fulness  that  "Rest  after 
toil,  port  after  stormy  seas." 

Music,  like  life,  is  planned,  not  for  the  greatest  happi- 
ness of  moment  by  moment,  but  —  with  a  broader  out- 
look —  for  the  most  beneficent  and  satisfying  aggregate 
of  effect.  It  is  the  strain  that  strengthens,  the  under 
darkness  of  the  cloud  that  makes  the  silver  lining  fair 
and  welcome,  bringing  great  rejoicing  at  the  end. 

Our  days  are  brighter  for  the  alternating  nights,  and 
a  perfectly  cloudless  day  can  never  reveal  the  utmost 
splendor  of  the  sun.  A  special  experience  is  needful  to 
make  one  realize   the  supernal  grandeur  of  light.     I 

179 


RAMBLES    IN    MUSIC-LAND 

once  had  that  experience  at  Lake  George.  A  severe 
storm  had  left  the  entire  sky  overcast  with  a  pall  of 
clouds  that  were  almost  black.  The  lake  and  the  ad- 
jacent range  of  lofty  mountains  responded  to  the  mood 
of  the  day,  and  were  robed  in  the  mournful  garb  of 
night.  Just  as  the  sun  was  about  to  drop  below  the 
western  hills,  a  long,  narrow  rift  suddenly  parted  the 
veil,  and  a  slend^  band  of  rich  gold,  a  mile  in  length, 
lay  upon  the  wooded  eastern  shore,  sharply  separating 
the  purplish-black  of  the  rugged  mountain  sides  from 
the  broad  surface  of  the  leaden,  sullen  lake.  Sunlight 
was  an  old  story  with  me.  I  had  thought  I  knew  all 
that  it  meant;  but  now  I  realized  in  that  one  glimpse 
that  I  had  never  truly  seen  sunlight  before.  It  found  its 
transfiguration  in  the  gloom.  The  impression  was  as  in- 
tense and  lasting  as  it  was  brief.  One  moment  of  such 
experience  is  worth  a  whole  day  of  universal  sunshine. 
Many  years  have  elapsed  since  the  incident  occurred; 
but  when  I  hear  the  threatening  tones  of  a  sharp,  over- 
powering discord  melt  into  the  brilliant  light  of  a  glo- 
rious harmony,  my  mind  reverts  to  that  impressive  solar 
revelation  at  Lake  George. 


i8o 


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